[n7T7T7T7Tir,i,i|i|i,i|i|iiii i,i,i,i|i|ij|i,i.iiiiiiii^^Mr7TiT|TiM^lLTZ 

St£rrA£iciiHiiral  Collep. 

Vol.. ^7. /.A 


L 'lass  J\'o 1.  -I .  . 


(Date//.-  ./.: 


ii,i,i,i|i  .i.i.i.t.iiiiiiiiiiii'iijiiJiinilLlxiilili'i'i'i'i'i'i'iGi  'I'i'i'i'. 


IP  3  \ 


BOOK     1  70. P3  1    c.  1 

PEABODY    #    MANUAL    OF    MORAL 

PHILOSOPHY 


■III 


3    1153    000b2b52    fl 


X 


This   book   may   be   kept   out 

TWO     WEEKS 

only  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  TWO  CENTS 
a  day  thereafter.  It  will  be  due  on  the  day 
indicated  below. 

JUN  15  1399 

PEB  141921 

..  .•:,      1928 


A    MANUAL  ,,^ 

■fH: 

OF 

MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

DESIGNED  FOR 


COLLEGES  AND  HIGH   SCHOOLS. 


BY 

ANDEEW  P.   PEABODY,  D.D.,   LL.D., 

FLUKICSB  PBOFBASOB  OF  CHBISTIAN  XOBALS  IN  BABTABD  UmTSBSITT. 


NEW   YORK  •:•  CINCINNATI  •:•  CHICAGO 

AMERICAN     BOOK     COMPANY 


f: 


Copyright,  1873,  by  A.  S.  Barnes  &  Co. 

M.  2 


PEEFAOE. 

The  author  has  endeavored  in  this  treatise  to  com- 
prehend all  that  is  essential  in  a  manual  of  ethics,  with 
a  view  equally  to  precision  and  to  conciseness.  He  has 
not  thought  it  necessary  to  controvert  views  other  than 
his  own;  for  conflicting  opinions  are  apt  to  bewilder 
rather  than  to  enlighten  those  who  are  not  adepts  in 
the  science,  and  it  is  better  to  supersede  false  theories 
by  the  clear  statement  of  the  truth  than  to  enter  into 
their  formal  refutation.  Thus,  for  instance,  as  regards 
utilitarianism,  instead  of  exposing  the  fallacies  of  its 
several  types,  the  attempt  has  been  made  (in  Chapter  III.) 
to  set  them  aside  by  assigning  to  expediency  its  legiti- 
mate secondary  place  as  a  principle  of  action. 

Among  the  authors  chief  motives  in  the  preparation 
of  this  manual  has  been  his  desire  to  give  emphasis  to 
his  view  of  the  ground  of  Right,  as  consisting  in  intrin- 
sic fitness,  independent  of  any  will  or  arbitrary  law 
human  or  divine,  and  essential  as  furnishing  the  only 
standard  by  which  we  can  attain  a  knowledge  of  the 
Divine  attributes.  The  ground  of  Right  is  the  basis 
of  Moral  Philosophy,  and  must  of  necessity  determine 
the  validity  and  worth  of  the  system  built  upon  it. 

Next  in  importance  to  this  is  the  classification  of  the 
virtues  which  constitute  the  Right.  Here  it  is  not  suf- 
ficient to  enumerate  the  prominent  traits  which  enter 
into  a  good  character.  The  division  should  be  exhaust- 
ive, and  in  this  treatise  the  four  cardinal  virtues  are  so 
defined  as  to  embrace  the  whole  of  human  duty,  and  so 


iv  PREFACE. 

divided,  it  is  believed,  as  to  give  its  due  place  to  every 
head  of  moral  obligation. 

Another  prominent  aim  in  this  book  h;!3  been  to  pre- 
sent the  Christian  religion  and  morality  in  their  true 
relations,  as  at  once  mutually  independent,  and  in  the 
most  intimate  and  helpful  alliance,  inasmuch  as  Chris- 
tianity creates  some  classes  of  obligations,  reveals  others, 
intensifies  all,  and  furnishes  the  only  motive  power  that 
can  insure  their  fulfilment. 

It  is  believed  that  snch  value  as  this  book  may  have 
is  enhanced  by  the  chapters  on  the  history  of  Moral 
Philosophy,  especially  as  there  is  no  compend  of  this 
history  that  is  likely  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  stu- 
dent; while  it  is  of  no  little  importance  that  he  should 
have  some  acquaintance  with  the  principal  ethical 
theories  of  the  ancient  world,  and  that  such  names  as 
Cudworth,  Clarke,  Butler,  Price,  Paley  and  Bentham 
should  not  remain  wholly  unknown. 

This  book  was  originally  prepared  for  the  author's  own 
classes,  because,  while  acknowledging  the  great  merits 
of  other  manuals,  he  found  none  that  presented  its 
range  of  subjects  in  what  seemed  to  him  their  due  per- 
spective and  relations,  and  because  some  of  them, 
otherwise  excellent,  lacked  conciseness  and  comprehen- 
siveness. His  use  of  the  manual  as  a  text-book  for 
several  years,  and  assurances  received  from  experienced 
teachers  in  schools  and  collesres  who  have  made  use  of 
it,  have  given  him  a  confidence  in  its  teaching  power 
which  he  dared  not  to  express  or  to  feel  when  it  first 
saw  the  light. 

CAMBRIDGE,  January  17,  1884. 


OOT^TEITTS. 


CHAPTER  L 


Action 


CHAPTER  n. 

Thb  Springs  of  Action 10 

SbctioiM.    The  Appetites 10 

Section  II.     The  Desires  ....  11 

Section  III.     The  Affections 2S 

.  ^  .-  CHAPTER   III. 

The  Governing  Principles  op  Action     ....        30 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Right 35 

CHAPTER   V. 

Means    and  Sources    of  ItNOWLEDOB    as    to  Rioht  awd 

Wrong  .         .         .        '. 41 

Section  I.     Conscience         .         ,         .  .        .  41 

Section  II.      Sources  of  Knowledge.      1.   Observation, 

Experience,  and  Tradition 46 

Section  III.     Sources  of  Knowledge.     2.  Law        .  50 

Sbction  IV.     Sources  of  Knowledjje.     3.  Christianity  55 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Rights  and  Obligations  ....  .        .       «    61 

CHAPTER   VIL 
Motive,  Passion,  and  Habit        .        .  12 

CHAPTER  Vra 
Virtue,  and  the  Virtues        .        .  ...    88 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Prudence  ;  or,  Duties  to  One's  Self       ....  98 

Section  I.     Self-Preservation 99 

Section  II.     The  Attainment  of  Knowledge         .        .  102 

Section  III.     Self-Control 106 

Section  IV.    Moral  Self-Cultnre 109 

CHAPTER  X. 

Justice  ;  or,  Duties  to  One's  Fellow-Beings     .        .        .118 

Section  I.     Duties  to  God 113 

Section  II.     Duties  of  the  Family 118 

Section  III.     Veracity      .        .        .  .        .        .122 

Section  IV.    Honesty      ......  134 

Section  V.    Beneficence  '^ 143 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Fortitude  ;  or,  Duties  with  reference  to  unavoidablb 

Etils  and  Sufferings 151 

Section  I.     Patience     .        ,        .        .        ,        .         .152 

Section  II.     Submission 156 

Section  III.     Courage 158 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTER  XIL 
Order  ;  or,  Duties  as  to  Objects  undeb  oub  own  Cow- 

TKOI. .164 

Section  I.    Time 165 

Section  II.    Place 168 

Seotion  III.    Measure 170 

Section  IV.    Manners 177 

Section  V.    Government      ....  180 

CHAPTER  Xm. 

Casuistry ,  i87 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Ancient  History  op  Moral  Philosophy                 »  196 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Modern  History  of  Moral  Philosophy       .        .        .  207 


A  MANUAL 

OF 

MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


CHAPTER    1. 

ACTION. 

A  N  act  or  action  is  a  voluntary  exercise  of  aoy 
■^  power  of  body  or  mind.  The  character  of  an 
action,  whether  good  or  bad,  depends  on  the  intention 
of  the  agent.  Thus,  if  I  mean  to  do  my  neighbor  a 
kindness  by  any  particular  act,  the  action  is  kind,  and 
thA^efore  good,  on  my  part,  even  though  he  derive 
no  benefit  from  it,  or  be  injured  by  it.  If  I  mean  to 
do  my  neighbor  an  injury,  the  action  is  unkind,  and 
therefore  bad,  though  it  do  him  no  harm,  or  though 
it  even  result  to  his  benefit.  If  I  mean  to  perform 
an  action,  good  or  bad,  and  am  prevented  from  per- 
forming it  by  some  unforeseen  hindrance,  the  suit  is 
as  truly  mine  as  if  I  had  performed  it.  Words  which 
have  any  meaning  are  actions.  So  are  thoughts  wliich 
we  purposely  call  up,  or  retain  in  the  mind. 

On  the   other  hand,  the  actions  which   we   are 
compelled  to  perform  against  our  wishes,  and  the 

thoughts  which  are  forced  upon  our  minds,  witbout 
1 


2  MORAL   I'lilLUSOPHY. 

oiir  own  consent,  are  not  our  actions.  This  is  obvi- 
ously true  when  our  fellow-men  forcibly  compel  us 
to  do  or  to  hear  things  which  we  do  not  wish  to  do 
or  to  hear.  It  is  their  action  solely,  and  we  have  no 
more  part  in  it  than  if  we  were  brute  beasts,  or  inani- 
mate objects.  It  is,  then,  the  intention  that  gives 
character  to  the  action. 

That  we  commonly  do  what  we  intend  to  do  theie 
can  be  no  doubt.  We  do  not  act  under  immediate 
compulsion.  We  are,  therefore,  free  agents^  or  actors. 
But  are  our  intentions  free  ?  Is  it  in  our  power  to 
will  otherwise  than  we  will  ?  When  we  choose  to 
perform  an  act  that  is  just  or  kind,  is  it  in  our  power 
to  choose  to  perform  an  act  of  the  opposite  character  ? 
In  other  words,  is  the  will  free  ?  If  it  be  not  so,  then 
what  we  call  our  intentions  are  not  ours,  but  are  to 
be  attributed  to  the  superior  will  which  has  given 
direction  to  our  wills.  If  God  has  so  arranged  the 
order  of  nature  and  the  course  of  events  as  to  force 
my  will  in  certain  directions,  good  or  evil,  then  it  is 
He  that  does  the  good  or  evil  which  I  seem  to  do. 
On  this  supposition  God  is  the  only  agent  or  actor  in 
the  universe.  Evil,  if  it  be  wrought,  is  wrought  by 
Him  alone  ;  and  if  we  cannot  admit  that  the  Supreme 
Being  does  evil,  the  only  alternative  is  to  deny  the 
existence  of  evil,  and  to  maintain  that  what  we  call 
evil  bears  an  essential  part  in  the  production  of  good. 
For  instance,  if  the  horrible  enormities  imputed  to 
Nero  were  utterly  bad,  the  evil  that  was  in  them  is 
chargeable,  not  on  Nero,  but  on    God  ;    or  if  it  be 


FREEDOM  OF  THE    WILL,  8 

maintained  that  God  cannot  do  evil,  then  Nero  was 
an  instrument  for  the  advancement  of  human  happi- 
ness and  well-being. 

What  reasons  have  we  for  believing  that  the 
human  will  is  free? 

1.  We  have  the  direct  evidence  of  conscious- 
ness. We  are  distinctly  conscious,  not  only  of  doing 
as  we  choose,  but  of  exercising  our  free  choice  among 
different  objects  of  desire,  between  immediate  and 
future  enjoyment,  between  good  and  evil.  Now, 
though  consciousness  may  sometimes  deceive  us,  it  is 
the  strongest  evidence  that  we  can  have ;  we  are  so 
constituted  that  we  cannot  refuse  our  credence  to  it ; 
and  our  belief  in  it  Hes  at  the  basis  of  all  evidence 
and  of  all  knowledge. 

2.  We  are  clearly  oonsoious  of  merit  or  demerit, 
of  self-approval  or  self-condemnation,  in  consequence 
of  our  actions.  If  our  wills  were  acted  upon  by  a 
force  beyond  our  control,  we  might  congratulate  or 
pity  ourselves,  but  we  could  not  praise  or  blame  our- 
selves, for  what  we  had  done. 

3.  We  praise  or  blame  others  for  their  good  or 
evil  actions ;  and  in  our  conduct  toward  them  we 
show  that  we  believe  them  to  have  been  not  merely 
fortunate  or  unfortunate,  but  praiseworthy  or  blame- 
worthy. So  far  as  we  suppose  their  wills  to  have 
been  influenced  by  circumstances  beyond  their  con- 
trol^ we  regard  them  with  diminished  approval  or 
censure.  On  the  other  hand,  we  give  the  highest 
praise  to  those  who  have  chosen   the   good  amidst 


4  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

strong  temptations  to  evil,  and  bestow  the  severest 
censure  on  those  who  have  done  evil  with  virtuous  sur- 
roundings and  influences.  Now  our  judgment  of  others 
must  of  necessity  be  derived  from  our  own  conscious- 
ness, and  if  we  regard  and  treat  them  as  freely  will- 
ing beings,  it  can  only  be  because  we  know  that  our 
owr  wills  are  free. 

These  arguments,  all  derived  from  consciousness, 
can  be  directly  met  only  by  denying  the  validity 
of  oonsciousness  as  a  ground  of  belief.  The  opposing 
arguments  are  drawn  from  sources  independent  of 
consciousness. 

1.  The  most  obvious  objection  to  the  freedom  of 
the  human  will  is  derived  from  the  power  of  mo- 
tives. It  is  said,  We  never  act  without  a  motive  ; 
we  always  yield  to  the  strongest  motive ;  and  mo- 
tives are  not  of  our  own  creation  or  choice,  but  are 
brought  to  bear  upon  us  independently  of  our  own 
action.  There  has  been,  from  the  creation  until  now, 
an  unbroken  series  of  causes  and  effects,  and  we  can 
trace  every  human  volition  to  some  anterior  cause  or 
causes  belonging  to  this  inevitable  series,  so  that,  in 
order  for  the  volition  to  have  been  other  than  it  was, 
some  member  of  this  series  must  have  been  dis- 
placed. 

To  this  it  may  be  answered :  — 

(a)  We  are  capable  of  acting  without  a  mo- 
tive, and  we  do  so  act  in  numberless  instances.  It 
was  a  common  saying  among  the  Schoolmen,  that  an 
asSj  at  equal  distances  from  two  equal  bundles  of  hay, 


POWER  OF  MOTIVES.  6 

wculd  starve  to  death  for  lack  of  a  motive  to  choose 
either.  But  have  we  any  motive  whatever  in  the 
many  cases  in  which  we  choose  —  sometimes  after  the 
vain  endeavor  to  discover  a  ground  of  preference  — 
between  two  equally  valuable,  beautiful,  or  appetizing 
objects,  between  two  equally  pleasant  routes  to  the 
same  terminus,  or  between  two  equally  agreeable 
modes  of  passing  a  leisure  day  or  hour  ?  Yet  this 
choice,  made  without  motive,  may  be  a  fruitful  cause 
of  motives  that  shall  have  a  large  influence  in  the 
future.  Thus,  on  the  route  which  one  chooses  with- 
out any  assignable  reason,  he  may  encounter  persons 
or  events  that  shall  modify  his  whole  plan  of  life. 
The  instances  are  by  no  means  few,  in  which  the 
most  decisive  results  have  ensued  upon  a  choice  thus 
made  entirely  without  motive. 

(5)  Motives  of  equal  strength  act  differently  on 
different  temperaments.  The  same  motive,  when  it 
stands  alone,  with  no  opposing  motive,  has  not  the 
same  efl!ect  on  different  minds.  There  is  in  the  will 
of  every  human  being  a  certain  reluctance  to  action 
—  in  some  greater,  in  others  less  —  corresponding  to 
the  vis  inertice  in  inanimate  substances  ;  and  as  the 
impulse  which  will  move  a  wooden  ball  may  not  suf- 
fice to  move  a  leaden  ball,  so  the  motive  which  will 
start  mto  action  a  quick  and  sensitive  temperament, 
may  produce  no  effect  on  a  person  of  more  sluggish 
nature.  Thus,  among  men  utterly  destitute  of  hon- 
esty, some  are  tempted  by  the  most  paltry  opportuni- 
ties for  theft  or  fraud  ;    others,  not  one  wlrit  more 


6  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

scrupulous,  have  their  cupidity  aroused  only  by  tho 
prospect  of  some  substantial  gain.  So,  too,  some  sin- 
cerely benevolent  persons  are  moved  to  charitable 
actions  by  the  slightest  needs  and  sufferings ;  others, 
equally  kind  and  generous,  have  their  sympathies 
excited  only  on  grave  occasions  and  by  imperative 
claims.  Motives,  then,  have  not  a  determinate  and 
calculable  strength,  but  a  power  which  varies  with 
the  previous  character  of  the  person  to  whom  they 
are  addressed.  Moreover,  the  greater  or  less  suscep 
tibility  to  motives  from  without  is  not  a  difference 
produced  by  education  or  surroundings ;  for  it  may 
be  traced  in  children  from  the  earliest  development  of 
character.  Nor  can  it  be  hereditary ;  for  it  may  be 
found  among  children  of  the  same  parents,  and  not 
infrequently  between  twins  nurtured  under  precisely 
the  same  care,  instruction,  and  discipline. 

((?)  External  motives  are  not  the  causes  of 
action,  but  merely  its  occasions  or  opportunities. 
The  cause  of  the  action  already  exists  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  agent,  before  the  motive  presents  itself.  A 
purse  of  gold  that  may  be  stolen  without  detection  is 
an  iiTesistible  motive  to  a  thief,  or  to  a  person  who, 
though  not  previously  a  thief,  is  covetous  and  unprin- 
cipled ;  but  the  same  purse  might  lie  in  the  way  of 
an  honest  man  every  day  for  a  month,  and  it  would 
not  make  him  a  thief.  If  I  recognize  the  presence  of 
a  motive,  I  must  perform  some  action,  whether  exte- 
rior or  internal ;  but  whether  that  action  will  be  in 
accordance  with  the  motive,  or  in  the  opposite  direc- 


POWER   OF  MOTIVES.  1 

tion,  is  determined  by  my  previous   character  and 
habits  of  action. 

(d)  The  objection  which  we  are  considering  as- 
sumes, without  sufficient  reason,  that  the  phenom- 
ena of  human  action  are  closely  analogous  to 
those  of  motion  in  the  material  world.  The  an- 
alogy fails  in  several  particulars.  No  material  object 
can  act  on  itself  and  change  its  own  nature,  adapta- 
tions, or  uses,  without  any  external  cause  ;  but  the  hu- 
man mind  can  act  upon  itself  without  any  external 
cause,  as  in  repentance,  serious  reflection,  rehgious 
purposes  and  aims.  Then  again,  if  two  or  more 
forces  in  different  directions  act  upon  a  material  ob- 
ject, its  motion  is  not  in  the  direction  of  either,  oi 
with  the  momentum  derived  from  either,  but  in  a  di- 
rection and  with  a  momentum  resulting  from  the  com- 
position of  these  forces ;  whereas  the  human  will,  in 
the  presence  of  two  or  more  motives,  pursues  the 
direction  and  yields  to  the  force  of  but  one  of  those 
motives.  We  are  not,  then,  authorized  to  reason 
about  the  power  of  motives  from  the  action  of  mate- 
rial forces. 

(e)  Were  the  arguments  against  the  freedom  of 
the  will  logically  sound  and  unanswerable,  they  would 
be  of  no  avail  against  the  testimony  of  conscious- 
ness. Axioms,  intuitive  beliefs,  and  truths  of  con- 
sciousness can  be  neither  proved  nor  disproved  by 
reasoning  ;  and  the  reasoning  by  which  they  seem  to 
be  disproved  only  evinces  that  they  are  beyond  the 
range  and  reach  of  argument.     Thus  it  may  be  main- 


8  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

tained  with  show  of  reason  that  motion  is  impossible  ; 
for  an  object  cannot  move  where  it  is,  and  cannot 
move  where  it  is  not,  —  a  dilemma  which  does  not 
disprove  the  reality  of  motion,  but  simply  indicates 
that  the  reality  of  motion,  being  an  intuitive  belief, 
neither  needs  nor  admits  logical  proof. 

2.  It  is  urged  against  the  freedom  of  the  human 
will  that  it  is  inconsistent  with  God's  foreknowl- 
edge of  future  events,  and  thus  represents  the  Su 
preme  Being  as  not  omniscient,  and  in  that  particular 
finite  and  imperfect. 

To  this  objection  we  reply  :  — 

(a)  If  human  freedom  and  the  Divine  foreknowl- 
edge of  human  acts  are  mutually  incompatible,  we 
must  still  retain  the  freedom  of  the  will  as  a  truth 
of  consciousness ;  for  if  we  discredit  our  own  con- 
sciousness, we  cannot  trust  even  the  act  of  the  under- 
standing by  which  we  set  it  aside,  which  act  we  know 
by  the  testimony  of  consciousness  alone. 

(h)  If  the  acts  of  a  freely  willing  being  cannot  be 
foreknown,  the  ignorance  of  them  does  not  detract 
from  the  perfectness  of  the  Supreme  Being.  Omnip- 
otence cannot  make  two  and  two  five.  Omnipotence 
cannot  do  what  is  intrinsically  impossible.  No  more 
can  Omniscience  know  what  is  intrinsically  unknow- 
able. 

(c)  If  God's  foreknowledge  is  entire,  it  must 
include  his  own  acts,  no  less  than  those  of  men. 
If  his  foreknowledge  of  men's  acts  is  incompatible 
with  their  freedom,  then  his  foreknowledge  of    his 


DIVINE  FOREKNOWLEDGE  9 

own  acts  is  incompatible  with  his  own  freedom.  We 
have,  therefore,  on  the  theory  of  necessity,  instead  of 
a  Supreme  Will  on  the  throne  of  the  universe,  mere 
fate  or  destiny.  This  is  equivalent  to  the  denial  of  a 
personal  God. 

(d)  It  cannot  be  proved  that  God's  foreknowl- 
edge and  man's  free  will  are  incompatible  with 
each  other.  The  most  that  we  can  say  is  that  we 
do  not  fully  see  how  they  are  to  be  reconciled,  which 
is  the  case  with  many  pairs  of  undoubted  truths  that 
might  be  named.  But  while  a  perfect  explanation  of 
the  harmony  of  the  Divine  foreknowledge  and  human 
freedom  is  beyond  the  scope  of  our  faculties,  we  may 
explain  it  in  part,  from  om  own  experience.  Human 
foreknowledge  extends  very  far  and  with  a  great  de- 
gree of  certainty,  without  abridging  the  freedom  of 
those  to  whom  it  relates.  When  we  can  foresee  out- 
ward events,  we  can  often  foretell,  with  little  danger 
of  mistake,  the  courses  of  conduct  to  which  they  will 
give  rise.  In  view  of  the  extent  and  accuracy  of  hu- 
man foresight,  we  cannot  pronounce  it  impossible, 
that  He  who  possesses  antecedent  knowledge  of  the 
native  constitution  of  every  human  being,  and  of  the 
shaping  circumstances  and  influences  to  which  each 
being  is  subjected,  may  foreknow  men*s  acts,  even 
though  their  wills  be  entirely  free. 


CHAPTER  11. 

THE   SPRINGS  OF  ACTION. 

T^HERE  are  certain  elements  of  the  human  consti- 
tution, in  part  natural,  in  part  acquired,  which 
always  prompt  and  urge  men  to  action,  without 
reference  to  the  good  or  evil  there  may  be  in  the 
action,  and  without  reference  to  its  ultimate  effecta 
on  the  actor's  well-being.  These  are  the  Appetites, 
the  Desires,  and  the  Affections. 

SECTION  1. 
THE   APPETITES. 

The  Appetites  are  cravings  of  the  body,  adapted, 
and  undoubtedly  designed,  to  secure  the  continued 
life  of  the  individual  and  the  preservation  of  the  spe- 
cies. They  are  common  to  man  with  the  lower  orders 
of  animals,  with  this  difference,  that  in  man  they  may 
be  controlled,  directed,  modified,  in  part  suppressed, 
while  in  brutes  they  are  uncontrollable,  and  always 
tend  to  the  same  modes  of  gratification. 

Appetite  is  intermittent.  When  gratified,  it  ceases 
for  a  time,  and  is  renewed  for  the  same  person  nearly 
at  the  same  intervals,  and  under  similar  circumstances. 
It  is,  while  it  lasts,  an  uneasy,  even  a  painful  sensa- 
tion, and  therefore  demands  prompt  relief,  and  leads 


THE  APPETITES.  11 

to  action  with  a  view  to  such  reUef .  It  is  also  a  char- 
acteristic of  appetite  that  its  indulgence  is  attended, 
not  merely  by  relief,  but  by  posinve  pleasure. 

The  appetites  are  essential  to  the  "well-being  of 
men,  individually  and  collectively.  Were  it  not  for 
the  pain  of  hunger  and  thirst,  and  the  pleasure  of 
gratifying  them,  both  indolence  and  engrossing  indus- 
try would  draw  off  the  attention  of  men  from  their 
bodily  needs  ;  nourishment  would  be  taken  irregu- 
larly, and  with  little  reference  to  quality ;  and  one 
would  often  become  aware  of  his  neglect  only  too  late 
to  arrest  its  consequences.  A  similar  remark  applies 
to  the  appetite  designed  to  secure  the  preservation  of 
the  species.  But  for  this,  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
men  would  willingly  take  upon  themselves  the  cares, 
labors,  responsibilities,  and  contingent  disappoint- 
ments and  sorrows  involved  in  the  rearing  of  chil- 
dren. 

In  a  life  conformed  to  nature,  hunger  and  thirst  re- 
cur only  when  the  body  actually  needs  the  supply 
which  they  crave.  But  stimulating  food,  by  the 
reaction  that  follows  strong  excitement  of  any  por- 
tion of  the  nervous  system,  may  create  hunger  when 
there  is  no  need  of  food,  and  in  like  manner  not  only 
intoxicating,  but  highly  stimulating  liquids,  may  occa- 
sion an  excessive,  morbid,  and  injurious  thirst. 

Appetite  is  modified  by  habit.  There  is  hardly 
any  substance  so  offensive  that  it  may  not  by  use  be- 
come agreeable,  then  an  object  of  desire,  and,  at 
length,  of  intense  craving. 


12  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  craving  for  repose  and  that  for  musculctf 
action,  though  not  classed  among  the  appetites,  have 
all  their  characteristics,  and  serve  similar  ends  in  the 
ei^onomy  of  human  life.  After  a  certain  period  of 
activity,  rest  is  felt  as  a  bodily  necessity,  as  food  is, 
after  long  fasting ;  and  in  Hke  manner,  when  tin* 
wearied  muscles  have  had  their  due  repose,  there  is 
an  irresistible  tendency  to  their  exercise,  without  ref- 
erence to  any  special  employment  or  recreation.  It 
is  by  the  alternation  of  these  tendencies  that  the  act- 
ive and  industrious  are  saved  from  the  ruinous  conse- 
quences of  overtasked  limbs  or  brain,  and  that  the 
indolent  are  urged  to  the  reluctant  activity  without 
which  health  and  life  itself  would  be  sacrificed. 

The  appetites,  being  mere  bodily  impulses,  and  be- 
ing all  liable  to  excess  or  misdirection,  need  the  con- 
trol of  the  will,  and  of  the  priuciples  of  action  by 
which  the  will  is  determined  and  regulated. 

SECTION  n. 

THE   DESIRES. 

The  Desires  are  distinguished  from  the  Appetites, 
first,  in  their  not  originating  from  the  body ;  second- 
ly, in  their  not  being  necessarily  lutermittent ;  and 
thirdly,  in  their  tendency  to  increase  indefinitely,  often 
through  the  whole  of  life,  and  to  gain  strength  by  the 
attainment  of  their  specific  objects.  If  classified  b^ 
their  objects,  they  might  seem  too  numerous  to  be 
specified  :  but  they  may  all  be  embraced  under  the 


DESIRE  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  15 

titles  of  tht  Desire  for  Knowledge,  for  Society,  for  Ea- 
teera,  for  Power,  and  for  Superiority.  These  all  may 
be  traced,  in  a  more  or  less  rudimentary  form,  in  the 
i  iferior  animals.  Many  of  these  animals  show  an 
active  curiosity.  Many  are  gregarious  in  their  native 
state,  and  most  of  the  domestic  animals  delight  in  the 
society  of  their  kind  ;  some  take  manifest  pleasure  in 
human  society ;  and  the  instances  are  by  no  means 
rare,  in  which  animals,  by  nature  mutually  hostile,  bo- 
come  strongly  attached  to  each  other,  and  render  to 
each  other  the  most  friendly  services.  The  dog,  the 
horse,  and  the  cat  evidently  crave  the  esteem  of  hu- 
man beings,  and  show  tokens  of  genuine  grief  when 
they  incur  rebuke  or  discern  tokens  of  disapproval. 
The  dog  maintains  with  watchful  jealousy  his  own 
authority  in  his  own  peculiar  domain  ;  and  in  the 
chase  or  on  the  race-ground  the  dog  and  the  horse  are 
as  emulous  of  success  as  their  masters. 

1.  The  Desire  of  Knowledge.  This  in  the  human 
being  is  manifested  with  the  earliest  dawn  of  intelli- 
gence. The  infant  is  busy  with  eye  and  hand  through- 
out his  waking  hours  ;  and  that  the  desire  of  knowl- 
edge is  innate,  and  has  no  reference  to  the  use  that  is 
to  be  made  of  the  things  known,  is  manifest  from  the 
rapid  growth  of  knowledge  in  the  first  years  of  life, 
before  the  child  has  any  distinct  conception  of  the 
uses  of  objects,  or  any  conscious  capacity  of  employ- 
ing them  for  his  own  benefit.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  in  any  subsequent  year  of  life  so  much 
knowledge  is  acquired  as  during  the  first  year.     The 


1^  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

child  but  a  year  old  has  learned  the  nature  of  the  fa- 
miliar objects  of  the  house  and  the  street,  the  faces 
and  names  of  a  large  number  of  relatives,  domestics, 
and  acquaintances,  the  regular  succession  of  seasons 
and  events  in  daily  domestic  Hfe,  and  the  meanings  of 
most  of  the  words  that  are  addressed  to  him  or  em- 
ployed concerning  him  and  the  objects  around  him. 
In  more  advanced  life  this  desire  grows  by  what  it 
feeds  on,  and  never  ceases  to  be  active.  It  assumes, 
indeed,  different  directions,  in  part  determining,  and 
in  part  determined  by,  condition,  profession,  or  em- 
ployment. Even  in  the  most  idle  and  frivolous,  it  is 
strong,  often  intense,  though  its  objects  be  worthless. 
Such  persons  frequently  are  as  sedulous  in  collecting 
the  paltry  gossip  of  society  as  the  naturalist  in  ac- 
quiring the  knowledge  of  new  species  of  plants  or 
insects,  and  as  ingenious  in  their  inferences  from  what 
they  see  and  hear  as  the  philosopher  in  his  inductions 
from  the  facts  of  science. 

Not  only  in  infancy,  but  through  life,  knowledge 
is  sought  evidently  for  its  own  sake,  and  not 
merely  for  its  uses.  But  a  very  small  part  of  what 
one  knows  can  be  made  of  practical  utility  as  to  his 
own  comfort  or  emolument.  Many,  indeed,  volunta- 
rily sacrifice  ease,  gain,  position,  in  the  pursuit  of 
science  or  hterature.  Fame,  if  it  accrues,  is  not  un- 
welcome ;  but  by  the  higher  order  of  minds  fame  is 
not  pursued  as  an  end,  and  there  are  many  depart- 
ments of  knowledge  in  which  little  or  no  reputation 
is  to  be  attained.     Then,  too,  it  is  not  the  learner, 


DESIRE  OF  SOCIETY.  1^ 

but  the  teacher,  not  the  profound  scholar,  merely,  but 
the  able  expositor,  speaker,  or  writer,  who  can  expect 
a  distinguished  name ;  while  there  are  many  who  con- 
tent themselves  with  acquiring  knowledge,  without 
attempting  publicity.  Nor  yet  can  benevolence  ac- 
count for  the  love  of  knowledge.  Many,  indeed, 
make  their  attainments  the  property  of  others,  and 
are  zealous  in  diffusing  their  own  scientific  views,  or 
in  dispensing  instruction  in  their  own  departments. 
But  there  are  also  many  solitary,  recluse  students  ; 
and  it  may  be  doubted  whether,  if  a  man  who  is 
earnestly  engaged  in  any  intellectual  pursuit  were 
shut  out  entirely  from  human  society,  and  left  alone 
with  his  books  or  with  nature,  his  diligence  would  be 
relaxed,  or  his  ardor  abated. 

2.  The  Desire  of  Society.  This,  also,  is  mani- 
fested so  early  as  to  show  that  it  is  an  original,  and 
not  an  acquired  principle.  Little  children  dread  soli- 
tude, crave  the  presence  of  familiar  faces,  and  evince 
pleasure  in  the  company  of  children  of  their  own  age. 
A  child,  reared  in  comparative  seclusion  and  silence, 
however  tenderly,  suffers  often  in  health,  always  in 
mental  vigor  and  elasticity  ;  while  in  a  large  family, 
and  in  intimate  association  with  companions  of  his 
own  age,  the  individual  child  has  the  fullest  and  most 
rapid  development  of  all  his  powers.  There  is,  in- 
deed, in  the  lives  of  many  children,  a  period  when 
tlie  presence  of  strangers  is  unwelcome ;  but  this 
state  of  feeling  —  seldom  of  long  duration  —  can  in 
most  instances  be  traced  to  some  sudden  tright,  harsh 
voice,  or  imagined  neglect  or  unkindness. 


16  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  natural  course  of  human  life  proves  that  man 
is  by  the  necessity  of  his  nature  a  social  being.  The 
young  of  other  animals  are  at  a  very  early  period 
emancipated  and  forsaken  by  their  parents,  while  the 
human  child  has  many  years  of  dependence,  and  is 
hardly  prepared  to  dispense  with  the  shelter  and  kind 
offices  of  his  native  home,  when  he  is  moved  to  create 
fi  new  home  of  his  own. 

There  is  no  pursuit  in  life  in  which  a  community  of 
interest  fails  to  give  added  zest  and  energy.  There 
is  no  possible  ground  of  association  on  which  societies 
are  not  formed,  and  the  trivial,  fictitious,  or  imaginary 
pretences  on  which  men  thus  combine,  meet,  and  act 
in  concert,  are  manifest  proofs  of  a  social  proclivity 
so  strong  as  to  create  reasons  for  its  indulgence  where 
such  reasons  do  not  already  exist.  Even  in  science 
and  in  the  most  abstruse  forms  of  erudition,  men  of 
learning  seek  mutual  countenance  and  encouragement, 
and  readily  suspend  their  solitary  research  and  study 
for  the  opportunity  of  intercommunication  on  the 
subjects  and  objects  of  their  pursuit.  The  cases  in 
which  society  is  voluntarily  shunned  or  forsaken  are 
as  rare  as  the  cases  of  congenital  disease  or  deform- 
ity ;  and  for  every  such  instance  there  may  generally 
be  assigned  some  grave,  if  not  sufficient,  cause.  Re> 
ligious  asceticism  has,  indeed,  induced  many  persons, 
especially  in  the  early  Christian  ages,  to  lead  a  soli- 
tary life  ;  but  the  coenobites  have  always  vastly  out- 
numbered the  hermits  ;  monasteries  (soHtary  abodes) 
have  become  convents  (assemblages)  ;  and  those  who 


DESIRE   OF  ESTEEM.  17 

are  shut  out  from  the  rest  of  the  world  find  comfort 
in  social  devotion,  in  the  common  refectory,  and  in 
those  seasons  of  recreation  when  the  law  of  silence  is 
suspended.  For  prisoners  solitary  confinement  has 
been  found  deleterious  both  to  body  and  mind,  and 
this  system,  instituted  with  philanthropic  purpose, 
and  commended  on  grounds  that  seemed  intimately 
connected  with  the  reformation  of  the  guilty,  is  now 
generally  repudiated  as  doing  violence  to  human  na- 
ture. Even  for  the  insane,  society,  with  judicious 
classification  and  restriction,  is  an  essential  part  of 
curative  treatment,  and  the  success  of  asylums,  as 
compared  with  the  most  skilful  and  humane  private 
treatment,  is  due  in  great  part  to  the  social  element. 

It  cannot  be  maintained  that  the  desire  of  society 
results  from  fear,  and  from  the  felt  need  of  mutual 
protection  ;  for  it  exists  in  full  at  the  most  fearless 
periods  of  life,  and  among  those  who  are  the  least 
timid,  and  is  equally  manifest  in  the  strong  and  the 
weak,  in  those  who  can  proffer  and  in  those  who  might 
crave  protection. 

3.  The  Desire  of  Esteem.  It  is  almost  superflu- 
ous to  say  that  this  is  a  native  and  indestructible  ele- 
ment  of  the  human  constitution.  Its  first  manifesta- 
tions bear  even  date  with  the  earHest  displays  of 
intelHgence  and  affection.  To  the  infant,  approval 
is  reward ;  rebuke,  even  by  look,  is  punishment.  The 
hope  of  esteem  is  the  most  healthful  and  effective 
stimulant  in  the  difficult  tasks  of  childhood  and  of 
school-life,      Under   the  discipUne   of  parents   both 


1«  MORAL   PHILOISOPHY 

wise  and  good,  it  is  among  the  most  important  and 
salutary  means  of  moral  discipline.  It  is  seldom  de- 
ficient in  young  persons.  Their  chid  danger  lies  in 
its  excess  ;  for  when  it  is  too  strongly  developed,  it 
inclines  them  to  seek  at  all  hazards  the  approval  of 
their  associates  for  the  time  being.  Hence  the  chiei 
danger  from  vicious  or  unscrupulous  associates.  The 
first  steps  in  vice  are  oftener  prompted,  no  doubt,  by 
the  desire  for  the  complacent  regard  of  one's  com- 
panions than  by  an  antecedent  disposition  to  evil. 
Indeed,  the  confession  is  often  made,  that  these  steps 
were  taken  with  compunction  and  horror,  solely  from 
the  fear  of  ridicule  and  from  the  desire  to  win  the 
approval  and  favor  of  older  transgressors. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  desire  ot  the  esteem  of  good 
men  is  one  of  the  strongest  auxiliary  motives  to 
virtue  ;  while  a  yearning  for  the  Divine  approval 
forms  an  essential  part  of  true  piety  towards  God. 

4.  The  Desire  of  Power.  This  is  manifested  in 
every  period  of  life,  and  in  the  exercise  of  every  fac- 
ulty, bodily,  mental,  and  moral.  It  is  this  which  gives 
us  pleasure  in  solitary  exercises  of  physical  strength. 
in  climbing  mountains,  swimming,  lifting  heavy 
weights,  performing  difficult  gymnastic  feats.  It  ie 
this,  more  than  dehberate  cruelty,  that  induces  boys 
to  torture  animals,  or  to  oppress  and  torment  their 
weaker  or  more  timid  companions. 

In  intellectual  pursuits,  the  love  of  power  leads  to 
many  exercises  and  efforts  that  have  no  ulterior 
result.     The  mathematician  will  turn  aside  from  hia 


DESIRE   OF  SUPERWRITY.  19 

course  of  study  to  master  a  problem,  which  involves 
uo  new  principle,  but  is  merely  difficult  and  perplex- 
ing. The  reading  of  books  obbcurely  written,  or  in 
languages  that  task  the  utmost  power  of  analysis,  fre- 
quently has  no  other  result,  and  probably  no  other 
object,  than  the  trial  of  strength.  What  can  be  at- 
tained only  b}^  strenuous  mental  labor,  is  for  that  very 
reason  sought,  even  if  it  promise  no  utility. 

In  the  affairs  of  practical  life,  every  man  desires 
to  make  his  influence  felt.  With  persons  of  the 
highest  character,  the  love  of  power  is  manifest  in 
connection  with  the  aim  to  be  useful.  Even  the  most 
modest  men,  while  they  may  spurn  flattery,  are  glad- 
dened by  knowing  that  they  are  acting  upon  the  wills 
and  shaping  the  characters  of  those  around  them. 

The  love  of  property  belongs  in  great  part  under 
this  head.  Money  is  power,  preeminently  so  at 
the  present  day.  Property  confers  influence,  and 
puts  at  one's  command  resources  that  may  be  tue 
means  of  extended  and  growing  power  alike  over  in- 
animate nature  and  the  wills  of  men.  Avarice,  or 
the  desire  of  money  for  its  own  sake,  is  not  an  orig- 
inal desire.  Few  or  none  are  avaricious  in  very  early 
life.  But  money,  first  sought  for  the  power  it  con- 
fers, from  being  a  means  becomes  an  end,  to  such  a 
degree  that,  in  order  to  possess  it,  the  miser  will 
forego  the  very  uses  for  which  he  at  the  outset 
learned  to  value  it. 

5.  The  Desire  of  Superiority.  This  is  so  nearly 
universal  in  all  conditions  of  society,  and  at  all  periods 


20  MURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

of  life,  that  it  must  be  regarded  as  an  original  ele- 
ment of  human  nature.  Without  it  there  would  be 
little  progress.  In  every  department  of  life,  men 
stimulate  one  another  toward  a  higher  standard  of 
endeavor,  attainment,  or  excellence.  What  each  does, 
his  neighbor  would  fain  outdo ;  what  each  becomes, 
his  neighbor  would  fain  surpass.  It  is  only  by  per- 
version that  this  desire  tends  to  evil.  It  finds  its 
proper  satisfaction,  not  in  crushing,  depressing,  or  in- 
juring a  rival,  but  barely  in  overtaking  and  excelling 
him  ;  and  the  higher  his  point  of  attainment,  the 
greater  is  the  complacency  experienced  in  reaching 
and  transcending  it.  On  the  race-ground,  I  do  not 
want  to  compete  with  a  slow  runner,  nor  will  it  afford 
me  the  slightest  satisfaction  to  win  the  race  by  trip 
ping  up  my  competitor  ;  what  I  want  is  to  match  my- 
self with  the  best  runner  on  a  fair  field,  and  to  show 
myself  his  equal  or  superior.  The  object  striven  for 
is  the  individual's  own  ideal,  and  those  whom  he  suc- 
cessively passes  on  his  course  mark  but  successive 
stages  on  his  progress  toward  that  ideal.  Thus,  in 
the  pursuit  of  moral  excellence,  it  is  only  a  mean  and 
a  bad  man  who  can  imagine  that  he  gains  anything 
by  detracting  from  the  merit  of  others ;  but  he  who 
is  sincerely  contending  for  a  high  place  among  virtu- 
ous men,  rejoices  in  the  signal  examples  of  goodness 
of  every  kind  which  it  is  his  privilege  to  emulate,  and 
rejoices  most  of  all  that  the  ideal  of  perfect  excel- 
lence —  once  only  actualized  in  human  form  —  is  so 
pure  and  lofty  that  it  may  be  his  life-work  to  ap- 
proach it  without  reaching  it. 


THE  DESIRES,  21 

Emulation  is  not  envy,  nor  need  it  lead  to  envy. 
A.mong  those  who  strive  for  superiority  there  need  be 
no  collision.  The  natural  desire  is  to  he,,  not  to  seem^ 
superior ;  to  have  the  consciousness,  not  the  mere  out- 
ward semblance,  of  high  attainment;  and  of  attain- 
ment,  not  by  a  conventional,  but  by  an  absolute  stand- 
ard ;  and  this  aim  excludes  none,  —  there  may  be  as 
many  first  places  as  there  are  deserving  candidates 
for  them.  Then,  too,  there  is  so  wide  a  diversity  of 
ideals,  both  in  degree  and  in  kind,  there  are  so  many 
different  ruhng  aims,  and  so  many  different  routes  by 
which  these  aims  are  pursued,  that  there  need  be  lit- 
tle danger  of  mutual  interference.  Even  as  regards 
external  rewards,  so  far  as  they  depend  on  the  bounty 
of  nature,  the  constitution  of  society,  or  the  general 
esteem  and  good  will  of  men,  the  success  of  one  does 
not  preclude  the  equal  success  of  many  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  merited  prosperity  and  honor  of  the 
individual  cannot  fail  to  be  of  benefit  to  the  whole 
community.  It  is  only  in  offices  contingent  on  elec- 
tion or  appointment  that  the  aspirant  incurs  a  heavy 
risk  of  failure ;  but  when  we  consider  how  meanly 
men  are  often  compelled  to  creep  into  office  and  to 
grovel  in  it,  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  a  genuine 
desire  of  superiority  holds  a  prominent  place  among 
the  motives  of  those  who  are  willingly  dependent  on 
patronage  or  on  popular  suffrage. 

These  desires,  according  as  one  or  another  has  the 
ascendency,  prompt  to  action,  without  reference  to 


•J2  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

the  good  or  the  evil  there  may  be  in  the  action ;  and 
they  therefore  need  the  control  of  reason,  and  of 
the  principles  which  reason  recognizes  in  the  govern- 
ment of  conduct 

SECTION  m. 

THE   AFFECTIONS. 

The  Aflfections  are  distinguished  from  the  De- 
sires, mainly  in  these  two  particulars :  first,  that  the 
Desires  are  for  impersonal  objects,  the  Affections,  for 
persons ;  and  secondly,  that  the  Desires  prompt  to 
actions  that  have  a  direct  reference  to  one's  self ;  the 
Affections,  to  actions  that  have  a  direct  reference  to 
others. 

The  Affections  are  benevolent  or  malevolent. 

1.  The  benevolent  affections  are  Love,  Reverence, 
Gratitude,  Kindness,  Pity,  and  Sympathy. 

Love  needs  no  definition,  and  admits  of  none.  It 
probably  never  exists  uncaused  ;  though  it  survives 
all  real  or  imagined  gi'ound  for  it,  and  in  some  cases 
seems  rendered  only  the  more  intense  by  the  admitted 
unworthiness  of  its  object.  AVhen  it  is  not  the  rea- 
son for  marriage,  it  can  hardly  fail  to  grow  from  the 
conjugal  relation  between  one  man  and  one  woman, 
if  the  mutual  duties  belonging  to  that  relation  be 
held  sacred.  It  is  inconceivable  that  a  mother  should 
not  love  her  child,  mevitably  cast  upon  her  protec- 
tion from  the  first  moment  of  his  being  ;  the  father 
whc  extends  a  father's  care  over  his  children  finds  in 
that  care  a  constant  source  of  love  ;  and  the  ^'hildren, 


REVERENCE.  28 

wakiiig  into  conscious  life  under  the  ministiies  of 
parental  benignit}^  and  kindness,  have  no  emotion  so 
early,  and  no  early  emotion  so  strong,  as  filial  love. 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  there  is  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  same  family  a  natural  affection,  indepen- 
dent of  relations  practically  recognized  in  domestic 
hfe.  It  is  very  certain  that  at  both  extremities  of  the 
social  scale  family  affection  is  liable  to  be  impaired, 
on  the  one  hand,  by  the  delegation  of  parental  duties 
to  hirelings,  and,  on  the  other,  by  the  inability  to 
render  them  constantly  and  efficiently.  We  may 
observe  also  a  difference  in  family  affection,  traceable 
indirectly  to  the  influence  of  climate.  Out-of-door 
life  is  unfavorable  to  the  intimate  union  of  families ; 
while  domestic  love  is  manifestly  the  strongest  in 
those  countries  where  the  shelter  and  hearth  of  the 
common  home  are  necessary  for  a  large  portion  of  the 
year. 

Friendship  is  but  another  name  for  love  between 
persons  unconnected  by  domestic  relations,  actual  or 
prospective. 

Love  for  the  Supreme  Being,  or  piety,  differs  not 
in  kind  from  the  child's  love  for  the  parent ;  but  it 
rightfully  transcends  all  other  love,  inasmuch  as  the 
benefits  received  from  God  include  and  surpass  all 
other  benefits.  To  awake,  then,  to  a  consciousness  oi 
our  actual  relation  to  God,  is  "  to  love  Him  with  all 
the  heart,  and  with  all  the  understanding,  and  all  the 
soul,  and  all  the  strength." 

Reverence  is  the  sentiment  inspired  by  advanced 


:i4  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

superiority  in  such  traits  of  mind  and  character  as  we 
regard  with  complacency  in  ourselves,  or  with  esteem 
in  our  equals.  Qualities  which  we  do  not  esteem  we 
may  behold  with  admiration  (that  is,  wonder),  but 
not  with  reverence.  Our  reverence  for  age  is  not  for 
advanced  years  alone,  but  for  the  valuable  experience 
which  they  are  supposed  to  have  given,  and  especially 
for  the  maturity  of  excellence  which  belongs  to  the 
old  age  of  good  men,  of  which  their  features  gener- 
ally bear  the  impress,  and  which,  in  the  absence  of 
knowledge,  we  are  prone  to  ascribe  to  a  venerable 
mien  and  aspect.  A  foolish  or  wicked  old  man  com- 
mands no  reverence  by  his  years. 

God,  as  possessing  in  infinite  fulness  all  the  proper 
ties  which  we  revere  in  man,  must  ever  be  the  worthy 
object  of  supreme  reverence. 

Gratitude,  though  it  can  hardly  be  disjoined  from 
love,  is  seldom  cherished  for  the  same  person  in  the 
same  degree  with  love.  We  love  our  beneficiaries 
more  than  our  benefactors.  We  love  those  dependent 
upon  us  more  than  those  on  whom  we  depend.  The 
mother's  love  for  her  child  is  the  strongest  of  human 
affections,  and  undoubtedly  exceeds  that  even  of  the 
child  for  the  mother  to  whom  he  owes  every  benefit 
and  blessing  under  heaven.  We  may  be  fervently 
grateful  to  persons  whom  we  have  never  seen  ;  but 
there  cannot  be  much  vividness  in  our  love  for  them. 
Love  to  God,  whom  we  have  not  seen,  needs  to  be 
kindled,  renewed,  and  sustained  by  gratitude  for  the 
mcessant   flow   of   benefits  from    Him,    and   by  the 


SYMPATHY.  25 

promise  —  contingent  on  charactei  —  of  blessings  im- 
measurable and  everlasting. 

Kindness  is  benevolence  for  one's  kind^  —  a  de- 
light in  their  happiness  and  well-being,  a  readiness  to 
perform  friendly  offices  whenever  and  however  they 
may  be  needed.  In  its  lower  forms  it  is  designated 
as  good  nature  ;  when  intense  and  universal,  it  is 
termed  philanthropy.  It  befits  the  individual  man  as 
a  member  of  a  race  of  kindred,  and  is  deemed  so  es- 
sential an  attribute  of  the  human  character,  that  he 
who  utterly  lacks  it  is  branded  as  inhuman,  while  its 
active  exercise  in  the  relief  of  want  and  suffering  is 
emphatically  termed  humanity. 

Pity  is  the  emotion  occasioned  by  the  sight  or 
knowledge  of  distress  or  pain.  While  without  it 
there  can  bft  no  genuine  kindness,  it  may  exist  with- 
out kindness.  There  are  persons  tenderly  sensitive  to 
every  form  of  suffering,  who  yet  feel  only  for  the  suf- 
ferer, not  with  him,  and  who  would  regard  and  treat 
him  coldly  or  harshly,  if  he  were  not  a  sufferer.  In 
such  cases,  pity  would  seem  to  be  a  selfish  feeling ; 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  some  men  relieve  dis- 
tress and  poverty,  as  they  would  remove  weeds  from 
a  flower-bed,  because  they  are  offensive  to  the  sight. 

Sympathy  is  feeling,  not  for,  but  with  others.^  It 
has  for  its  objects  successes  and  joys,  no  less  than  suf- 
ferings and  sorrows  ;  and  probably  is  as  real  and 
intense   in  the  case  of   the  former  as  of  the  latter, 

1  C(ymp(ugi(m  ought  from  its  derivation  to  have  the  same  meaning  with 
ayntpathy  {  but  in  common  usage  it  is  synonymous  with  pity. 


26  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

though  its  necessity  is  less  felt  and  its  offices  are  less 
prized  in  happy  than  in  sad  experiences.  Kindness 
alone  cannot  produce  sympathy.  In  order  to  feel 
with  another,  we  must  either  have  passed  through 
similar  experiences,  or  must  have  an  imagination  suf- 
ficiently vivid  to  mak3  them  distinctly  present  to  our 
thought.  This  latter  power  is  by  no  means  necessary 
to  create  even  the  highest  degree  of  kindness  or  of 
pity  ;  and  among  the  most  active  and  persevering  in 
works  of  practical  beneficence,  there  are  many  who 
feel  intensely  for,  yet  but  faintly  with,  the  objects  of 
their  charity.  On  the  other  hand,  sympathy  some- 
times finds  its  chief  exercise  in  sensational  literature, 
and  there  are  persons,  profoundly  moved  by  fictitious 
representations  of  distress,  who  yet  remain  inactive 
and  indifferent  as  regards  the  real  needs  and  suffer- 
ings around  them  that  crave  relief. 

2.  The  malevolent  aflfections  are  Anger,  Resent- 
ment, Envy,  Revenge,  and  Hatred. 

Anger  is  the  sense  of  indignation  occasioned  by 
real  or  imagined  wrong.  When  excited  by  actual 
wrong-doing,  and  when  contained  within  reasonable 
bounds,  it  is  not  only  innocent,  but  salutary.  It  in- 
tensifies tlie  virtuous  feeling  which  gives  it  birth  ;  and 
its  due  expression  is  among  the  safeguards  of  soci- 
ety against  coiruption  and  evil.  But  when  indulged 
without  sufficit'.nt  cause,  or  suffered  to  become  exces- 
sive or  to  outlast  its  occasion,  it  is  in  itself  evil,  and  it 
may  lead  to  any  and  every  form  of  social  injustice, 
%nd  of  outrage  against  the  rights  of  man  and  the  law 
Df  God. 


ENVY.  in 

Resentment  is  the  feeling  excited  by  injury  done 
to  ourselves.  This  also  is  innocent  and  natural,  when 
its  occasion  is  sufficient,  and  its  limits  reasonable.  It 
may  prevent  the  repetition  of  injury,  and  the  spon- 
taneous tendency  to  it,  which  is  almost  universal,  is 
an  efficient  defence  against  insult,  indignity,  and  en- 
croachment on  the  rights  of  individuals.  But,  in- 
dulged or  prolonged  beyond  the  necessity  of  self- 
defence,  it  is  prone  to  reverse  the  parties,  and  to  make 
the  injured  person  himself  the  wrong-doer. 

Both  anger  and  resentment  are  painful  emotions, 
and  on  this  account  are  self-limited  in  a  well-ordered 
mind.  He  who  makes  happiness  his  aim  will,  if  wise, 
give  these  disturbing  forces  the  least  possible  hold 
upon  him,  whether  in  intensity  or  in  duration. 

Envy  has  been  defined  as  the  excess  of  emulation. 
It  seems  rather  to  be  a  deficiency  in  the  genuine  prin- 
ciple of  emulation.  The  instinctive  desire  of  supe- 
riority leads  us,  as  we  have  seen,  to  aim  at  absolutely 
high  attainments,  and  to  measure  ourselves  less  by 
what  others  are,  than  by  our  own  ideal.  It  is  only 
those  of  lower  aims,  who  seek  to  supplant  others  on 
their  career.  Envy  is  the  attempt,  not  to  rise  or  ex- 
cel, but  to  stp.r.d  comparatively  high  by  subverting 
those  who  hold  or  sef^lc  a  higher  position.  No  just 
man  voted  for  the  banishment  of  Aristides  because  he 
was  always  called  the  Just ;  but  his  ostracism  was  the 
decree  of  those  who  knew  that  they  could  obtain  no 
reputatioD  for  justice  till  he  were  put  out  of  their 
way. 


28  MORAL  PHILOSOFHY. 

Revenge  is  the  desire  to  inflict  evil  for  evil.  In 
principle  it  is  alv^ays  wrong;  for  the  evil-doer, 
though  he  may  merit  transient  anger  and  resentment, 
is  not  therefore  placed  beyond  our  benevolence,  but  is 
rather  commended  to  our  charity  as  one  who  may  ue 
reformed  and  may  become  worthy  of  our  esteem.  In 
practice,  revenge  can  scarce  ever  be  just.  Our  self- 
love  so  exaggerates  our  estimate  of  the  wrong  we  re- 
ceive, that  we  could  hardly  fail  to  retaliate  by  greater 
wrong,  and  thus  to  provoke  a  renewal  of  the  injury. 
There  are,  no  doubt,  cases  in  which  self-defence  may 
authorize  the  immediate  chastisement  or  disabling  of 
the  wrong-doer,  and  in  an  unsettled  state  of  society, 
where  there  is  no  legal  protection,  it  may  be  the  right 
of  individuals  to  punish  depredation  or  personal  out- 
rage ;  but  acts  of  this  kind  are  to  be  justified  on  the 
plea  of  necessity,  not  of  revenge. 

Hatred  is  the  result  of  either  of  the  malevolent 
affections  above  named,  when  carried  to  excess,  or 
suffered  to  become  permanent.  It  precludes  the  ex- 
ercise of  all  the  benevolent  affections.  No  man  can 
rightfully  be  the  object  of  hatred  ;  for  there  is  no 
man  who  has  not  within  him  some  element  or  possi- 
bility of  good,  none  who  has  not  rights  that  should 
be  respected,  none  who  is  not  entitled  to  pity  for  his 
sufferings,  and,  still  more,  for  his  sins. 

The  affections,  benevolent  and  malevolent,  are 
common  to  man  with  lower  animals.  Love  and 
hatred  are  manifested  by  all  of  them  whose  habits  are 


THE  AFFECTIONS.  29 

open  to  our  inspection ;  anger,  by  not  a  few ;  grati- 
tude, kindness,  pity,  sympathy,  resentment,  and  re- 
venge, by  the  more  intelhgent ;  envy,  by  those  most 
completely  domesticated ;  reverence,  perhaps,  by  the 
dog  towards  his  master. 

The  affections  all  prompt  to  action,  and  do  not 
discriminate  the  qualities  of  actions.  Hence  they 
need  the  control  and  guidance  of  reason,  and  can 
safely  be  indulged  only  in  accordance  with  the  princi- 
ples which  reason  recognizes  as  supreme  in  tht>  con- 
duct of  life. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  GOVERNING  PRINCIPLES  OF  ACTION. 

^^HE  appetites,  desires,  and  affections  constitute  the 
irapelling  force  in  all  action.  Were  we  not  pos- 
sessed of  them,  we  should  not  act.  There  is  no  act 
of  any  kind,  good  or  bad,  noble  or  base,  mental  or 
bodily,  of  which  one  or  another  of  them  is  not  the 
proximate  cause.  They  are  also  imperative  in  their 
demands.  They  crave  immediate  action,  —  the  appe- 
tites, in  procuring  or  using  the  means  of  bodily  grati- 
fication ;  the  desires,  in  the  increase  of  their  objects  ; 
the  affections,  in  seeking  or  bestowing  their  appro- 
priate tokens  or  expressions,  whether  good  or  evil. 
Were  there  no  check,  the  specific  appetite,  desire,  or 
affection  to  which  circumstances  gave  the  ascendency 
for  the  time  being,  would  act  in  its  appropriate  direc- 
tion, until  counteracted  by  another,  brought  into  su- 
premacy by  a  new  series  of  circumstances.  This  is 
the  case  with  brutes,  so  far  as  we  can  observe  their 
modes  of  action.  Here,  in  man,  reason  intervenes, 
and  takes  cognizance  of  the  tendencies  and  the  quali- 
ties of  actions. 

Reason  considers  actions  under  two  points  of  view, 
—  interest  and  obligation,  —  expediency  and  right. 
The   questions   which    we   inwardly   ask    concerning 


EXPEDIENCY  AND  RIGHT.  31 

actions  all  resolve  themselves  into  one  of  these,  —  Is 
the  act  useful  or  desirable  for  me  ?  or,  Is  it  my  right 
or  my  duty  ?  He  who  is  wont  to  ask  the  former  of 
these  questions  is  called  a  prudent  man  ;  he  who 
habitually  asks  the  latter  is  termed  a  virtuous  or  good 
man.  He  who  asks  neither  of  them  yields  himself, 
after  the  manner  of  the  brutes,  to  the  promptings  of 
appetite,  desire,  and  affection,  and  thus  far  omits  to 
exercise  the  reason  which  distinguishes  him  from  the 
brutes. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  expediency  and  right 
coincide.  Under  the  government  of  Supreme  Be- 
nevolence, it  is  impossible  that  what  ought  to  be  done 
should  not  conduce  to  the  welfare  of  him  who  does 
it.  But  its  beneficent  results  may  be  too  remote  for 
him  to  trace  them,  nay,  may  belong  to  a  life  beyond 
death,  to  which  human  cognizance  does  not  reach  : 
while  what  ought  not  to  be  done  may  promise  sub- 
stantial benefit  so  far  as  man's  foresight  extends. 
Then,  too,  it  is  at  least  supposable  that  there  may  be 
cases,  in  which,  were  they  solitary  cases,  expediency 
might  diverge  from  right,  yet  in  which,  because  they 
belong  to  a  class,  it  is  for  the  interest  of  society  and 
of  every  individual  member  of  society  that  general 
laws  should  be  obeyed.  It  is  obvious  also,  that  there 
are  many  cases,  in  which  the  calculation  of  expedi- 
ency involves  details  too  numerous  and  too  compli- 
cated to  be  fully  understood  by  a  mind  of  ordinary 
discernment,  while  the  same  mind  car  clearly  per- 
ceive what  course  of  conduct  is  in  accordance  witli  the 


32  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

strict  rule  of  right.  Still  farther,  in  a  question  of 
conduct  in  which  appetite,  desire,  or  affection  is  con 
cerned,  we  cannot  take  as  calm  and  dispassionate  a 
view  of  our  true  interest,  as  we  should  of  the  interest 
of  another  person  in  like  case.  The  impelling  force 
may  be  so  strong,  that  for  the  time  being  we  sincerely 
regard  it  as  expedient  —  though  we  know  that  it  is 
not  right  —  to  yield  to  it. 

For  these  reasons  there  is  an  apparent  conflict  be- 
tween the  useful  and  the  right.  Though  a  perfectly 
wise  and  dispassionate  man  might  give  precisely  the 
same  answer  in  every  instance  to  the  question  of  in- 
terest and  that  of  duty,  men,  limited  and  influenced 
as  they  are,  can  hardly  fail  in  many  instances  to  an- 
swer these  questions  differently.  The  man  who  makes 
his  own  imagi'ued  good  his  ruling  aim  does  many 
things  which  he  would  not  defend  on  the  ground  of 
right ;  the  man  who  determines  always  to  do  right 
sometimes  performs  acts  of  reputed  and  conscious  self- 
denial  and  self-sacrifice. 

Nor  yet  can  more  general  considerations  of  expe- 
diency, reference  to  the  good  of  others,  to  the  greatest 
good  of  the  greatest  number,  serve  as  a  guide  to  the 
right  or  a  test  of  the  right.  We  have  less  foresight 
as  regards  others  than  as  regards  ourselves  ;  the  de- 
tails involved  in  the  true  interest  of  any  community, 
society,  or  number  of  persons,  are  necessarily  more 
numerous  and  complicated  than  those  involved  in  our 
own  well-being  ;  and,  if  not  appetite  or  desire,  the 
benevolent  or  malevolent  affections  are  fully  as  apt  to 


EXPEDIENCY.  88 

warp  our  judgment  and  to  misdirect  our  conduct  in 
the  case  of  others  as  in  our  own  case. 

We  perceive  then  that  expediency,  whether  with 
reference  to  ourselves  or  to  others,  is  not  a  trust- 
worthy rule  of  conduct.  Yet  while  it  cannot  hold 
the  first  place,  it  occupies  an  important  place  ;  for 
there  are  many  cases  in  which  the  question  before  us 
is  not  what  we  ought  to  do,  but  what  it  is  best  for  ua 
to  do.  Thus,  if  there  be  several  acts,  all  equally  right, 
only  one  of  which  can  be  performed,  we  are  evidently 
entitled  to  perform  the  act  which  will  be  most  pleas- 
ing or  useful  to  ourselves.  If  there  be  an  end  which 
it  is  our  right  or  duty  to  attain,  and  there  be  several 
equally  innocent  modes  of  attaining  it,  the  question 
for  us  is,  by  which  of  these  modes  we  may  find  the 
least  difficulty  or  gain  the  highest  enjoyment  or  ad- 
vantage. If  there  be  several  duties  incumbent  upon 
us  at  the  same  time  and  place,  all  of  which  have 
equal  intrinsic  claims,  yet  one  of  which  must  necessa- 
rily take  precedence  of  the  rest,  the  question  which 
shall  have  precedence  is  a  question  of  expediency, 
that  by  which  we  may  do  the  most  good  being  the 
foremost  duty. 

Expediency  is  not  a  characteristic  of  actions. 
An  act  is  not  in  itself  expedient  or  inexpedient, 
but  is  made  one  or  the  other  by  varying  circum- 
stances alone ;  while  there  are  acts  in  themselves 
good  which  no  possible  circumstances  could  make  bad, 
and  there  are  acts  in  themselves  bad  which  no  possi- 
ble circumstances  could  make  good.      If,  therefore, 


54  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY, 

there  be  a  science  which  has  for  its  province  the  in- 
trinsic qualities  of  actions,  questions  of  expediency 
have  no  place  in  such  a  science. 

Moral  Philosophy  or  Ethics  (synonymous  terms), 
is  the  science  which  treats  of  human  actions.  The 
term  morals  is  often  applied  to  external  actions ;  but 
always  with  reference  to  the  intentions  from  which 
fehey  proceed.  We  can  conceive  of  the  treatment  of 
actions  under  various  aspects,  as  wise  or  unwise, 
agreeable  or  disagreeable,  spontaneous  or  deliberate ; 
but  by  the  common  consent  of  mankind,  at  least  of 
the  civilized  and  enlightened  portion  of  mankind,  the 
distinction  of  actions  as  right  or  wrong  is  regarded  as 
of  an  importance  so  far  transcending  all  other  distinc- 
tions, as  to  render  them  of  comparatively  little  mo- 
ment. Therefore  Moral  Philosophy  confines  itself  to 
this  single  distinction,  and  takes  cognizance  of  others, 
only  as  they  modify  this,  or  are  modified  by  it.  The 
questions  which  Moral  Philosophy  asks  and  answers 
are  these  :  —  What  constitutes  the  right  ?  How  is  it 
to  be  ascertained  ?  Wherein  lies  the  obligation  to 
the  right  ?  What  are  the  motives  to  right  action  ? 
What  specific  actions,  or  classes  of  actions  are  right, 
and  why  ?  What  specific  actions,  or  classes  of  actions 
are  wrong,  and  why? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   RIGHT. 

THVERY  object,  by  virtue  of  its  existence,  has  its 
appropriate  place,  purpose,  uses,  and  relations. 
At  every  moment,  each  specific  object  is  either  in  or 
out  of  its  place,  fulfilling  or  not  fulfilling  its  purpose, 
subservient  to  or  alienated  from  its  uses,  in  accord- 
ance or  out  of  harmony  with  its  relations,  and  there- 
fore in  a  state  of  fitness  or  unfitness  as  regards  other 
objects.  Every  oDject  is  at  every  moment  under  the 
control  of  the  intelligent  will  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
or  of  some  finite  being,  and  is  by  that  will  maintained 
either  in  or  out  of  its  place,  purpose,  uses,  or  relations, 
and  thus  in  a  state  of  fitness  or  unfitness  with  regard 
to  other  objects.  Eveiy  intelligent  being,  by  virtue 
of  his  existence,  bears  certain  definite  relations  to  out- 
ward objects,  to  his  fellow-beings,  and  to  his  Creator. 
At  every  moment,  each  intelligent  being  is  either 
faithful  or  unfaithful  to  these  relations,  and  thus  in  a 
state  of  fitness  or  unfitness  as  regards  outward  objects 
and  other  beings.  Thus  fitness  or  unfitness  may  be 
affirmed,  at  every  moment,  of  every  object  in  exist- 
ence, of  the  volition  by  which  each  object  is  con- 
trolled, and  of  every  intelligent  being,  with  regard  to 
the   exercise   of   his  will   toward   or   upon   outward 


86  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

objects  or  his  fellow-beings.  Fitness  and  unfitness  are 
the  ultimate  ideas  that  are  involved  in  the  terras 
right  and  wrong.  These  last  are  metaphorical  term^, 
—  right  (Latin,  rectus)^  straight,  upright,  according 
to  rule,  and  therefore  jit ;  wrong,  wrung^  distorted, 
deflected,  twisted  out  of  place,  contrary  to  rule,  and 
therefore  unfit.  We  are  so  constituted  that  we  can- 
not help  regarding  fitness  with  complacency  and 
esteem  ;  unfitness,  with  disesteem  and  disapproval, 
even  though  we  ourselves  create  it  or  impersonate  it. 

Fitness  is  the  only  standard  by  which  we  regard 
our  own  actions  or  the  actions  of  others  as  good  or 
evil,  —  by  which  we  justify  or  condemn  ourselves  or 
others.  Duty  has  fitness  for  its  only  aim  and  end.  To 
whatever  object  comes  under  our  control,  its  fit  place, 
purpose,  uses,  and  relations  are  due  ;  and  our  percep- 
tion of  what  is  thus  due  constitutes  our  duty,,  and 
awakens  in  us  a  sense  of  obligation.  To  ourselves, 
and  to  other  beings  and  objects,  our  fidelity  to  our 
relations  has  in  it  an  intrinsic  fitness ;  that  fitness  is 
due  to  them  and  to  ourselves  ;  and  our  perception  of 
what  is  thus  due  constitutes  our  duty,,  and  awakens  in 
as  a  sense  of  obligation. 

Right  and  wrong  are  not  contingent  on  the 
knowledge  of  the  moral  agent.  Unfitness,  misuse, 
abuse,  is  none  the  less  intrinsically  wrong,  because  it 
is  the  result  of  ignorance.  It  is  out  of  harmony  with 
the  fitness  of  things.  It  deprives  an  object  of  it8 
due  use.  It  perverts  to  pernicious  results  what  is 
salutary  in  its  purpose.    It  lessens  for  the  agent  his 


ABSOLUTE  AND  RELAX  I'VE  RIGHT,  37 

aggregate  of  good  and  of  happiness,  and  increases 
for  him  his  aggregate  of  evil  and  of  misery.  In  this 
sense  —  far  more  significant  than  that  of  arbitrary 
infliction  —  the  well-known  maxim  of  jurisprudence, 
*'  Ignorance  of  the  law  excuses  no  one,"  ^  is  a  funda- 
mental law  of  nature. 

There  is,  however,  an  important  distinction  between 
absolute  and  relative  right.  In  action,  the  absolute 
right  is  conduct  in  entire  conformity  with  beings  and 
objects  as  they  are  ;  the  relative  right  is  conduct  in 
accordance  with  beings  and  objects  as,  with  the  best 
means  of  knowledge  within  our  reach,  we  believe 
them  to  be.  The  Omniscient  Being  alone  can  have 
perfect  knowledge  of  all  beings  and  things  as  they  are. 
This  knowledge  is  possessed  by  men  in  different 
degrees,  corresponding  to  their  respective  measures  of 
intelligence,  sagacity,  culture,  and  personal  or  tradi- 
tional experience.  In  the  ruder  conditions  of  society, 
acts  that  seem  to  us  atrociously  wrong,  often  proceed 
from  honest  and  inevitable  misapprehension,  are  right 
in  their  intention,  and  are  therefore  proper  objects  of 
moral  approbation.  In  an  advanced  condition  of  in- 
telligence, and  especially  under  high  religious  culture, 
though  the  realm  of  things  unknown  far  exceeds  that 
of  things  known,  there  is  a  sufiiciently  clear  under- 
standing of  the  objects  and  relations  of  ordinary  life 
to  secure  men  against  sins  of  ignorance,  and  to  leave 
in  their  wrong-doing  no  semblance  or  vestige  of  right. 

The  distinction  between  absolute  and  relative  right 

1  "  Ignorantia  .egis  nemincm  excusat." 


88  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

enables  us  to  reconcile  two  statements  that  may 
have  seemed  inconsistent  with  each  other,  namely, 
thnt  "  the  character  of  an  action,  whether  good  or  bad, 
depends  on  the  intention  of  the  agent,"  and  "  that  un- 
fitness, misuse,  abuse,  is  none  the  less  wrong  because 
fche  result  of  ignorance."  Both  these  propositions  are 
true.  The  same  act  may  be  in  intent  right  and  good, 
and  yet,  through  defect  of  knowledge,  wrong  and 
evil ;  and  it  may,  in  virtue  of  its  good  intent,  be 
attended  and  followed  by  beneficent  results,  while  at 
the  same  time  the  evil  that  there  is  in  it  may  be 
attended  or  followed  by  injurious  consequences.  We 
may  best  illustrate  this  double  character  of  actions  by 
a  case  so  simple  that  we  can  see  through  it  at  a  single 
glance.  I  will  suppose  that  I  carry  to  a  sick  person  a 
potion  which  I  believe  to  be  an  efiicient  remedy,  but 
which,  by  a  mistake  for  which  I  am  not  accountable, 
proves  to  be  a  deadly  poison.  My  act,  by  the  stand- 
ard of  absolute  right,  is  an  unfitting  and  therefore  a 
wrong  act,  and  it  has  its  inevitable  result  in  kilhng 
the  patient.  But  because  my  intention  was  right,  I 
have  not  placed  myself  in  any  wrong  relation  to  God 
or  man.  Nay,  if  I  procured  what  I  supposed  to  be  a 
heahng  potion  with  care,  cost,  and  trouble,  and  for 
one  whose  suffering  and  need  were  his  only  claim 
upon  me,  I  have  by  my  labor  of  love  brought  myself 
into  an  even  more  intimate  relation,  filial  and  frater- 
nal, with  God  and  man,  the  result  of  which  must  be 
my  enhanced  usefulness  and  happiness.  If  on  the 
other  hand  I  had  meant  to  poison  the  man,  but  had  by 


SINS   OF  lONORANCK.  39 

mistake  given  him  a  healing  potion,  my  act  would 
have  been  absolutely  right,  because  conformed  to  the 
fitness  of  things,  but  relatively  wrong,  because  in  its 
intention  and  purpose  opposed  to  the  fitness  of  things ; 
and  as  in  itself  fitting,  it  would  have  done  the  sick 
man  good,  while,  as  in  its  purpose  unfitting,  it  would 
have  thrown  me  out  of  the  relations  in  which  I 
ought  to  stand  both  vrith  God  and  man. 

Mistakes  as  to  specific  acts  of  duty  bear  the 
closest  possible  analogy  to  the  case  of  the  poison 
given  for  medicine.  The  savage,  who  sincerely  means 
to  express  reverence,  kindness,  loyalty,  fidelity,  may 
perform,  in  the  expression  of  those  sentiments,  acts 
that  are  utterly  unfitting,  and  therefore  utterly 
wrong ;  and  if  so,  each  of  these  acts  produces  its  due 
consequences,  it  may  be,  baleful  and  lamentable.  Yet 
because  he  did  the  best  he  knew  in  the  expression  of 
these  sentiments,  he  has  not  sunk,  but  risen  in  his 
character  as  a  moral  being,  —  has  become  better  and 
more  capable  of  good. 

Ignorance  of  the  right,  however,  is  innocent,  only 
when  inevitable.  At  the  moment  of  action,  indeed, 
what  seems  to  me  fitting  is  relatively  right,  and  were 
I  to  do  otherwise,  even  though  my  act  were  absolutely 
right,  it  would  be  relatively  wrong.  But  if  I  have 
had  and  neglected  the  means  of  knowing  the  right,  1 
have  violated  the  fitnesses  of  my  own  nature  by  not 
employing  my  cognitive  powers  on  subjects  of  vital 
importance  to  my  well-being.     In  this  case,  though 


40  MORAL  PHILOSOjPHY. 

what  are  called  the  sins  of  ignorance  may  be  mistakes 
and  not  sins,  the  ignorance  itself  has  all  the  charac- 
teristics that  attach  themselves  to  the  term  sin^  and 
must  be  attended  with  proportionally  harmful  conse- 
quences to  the  offender. 


CHAPTER  y. 

MEANS    AND  SOURCES   OF  KNOWLEDGE  AS  TO   RIGHT 

AND   WRONG. 

SECTION  I. 
CONSCIENCE. 

/  CONSCIENCE  is  a  means,  not  a  source,  of  knowl- 
edge. It  is  analogous  to  sight  and  hearing.  It 
is  the  power  of  perceiving  fitness  and  unfitness.  Yet 
more,  it  is  consciousness,  —  a  sense  of  our  own  per 
sonal  relation  to  the  fitting  and  the  unfitting,  of  our 
power  of  actualizing  them  in  intention,  will,  and  con- 
duct. It  is  in  this  last  particular  that  man  differs 
from  the  lower  animals.  They  have  an  instinctive 
perception  of  fitness,  and  an  instinctive  impulse  to 
acts  befitting  their  nature.  But  no  brute  says  to  him- 
self, "  I  am  acting  in  accordance  with  the  fitness  of 
things ; "  while  man  virtually  says  to  himself,  in 
every  act,  "  I  am  doing  what  it  is  fit  for  me  to  do," 
or,  "I  am  doing  what  it  is  unfitting  for  me  to  do." 

Conscience  is  a  judicial  faculty.  Its  decisions  are 
based  upon  such  knowledge  as  the  individual  has, 
whether  real  or  imagined,  and  from  whatever  source 
derived.  It  judges  according  to  such  law  and  evi- 
dence as  are  placed  before  it.     Its  verdict  is  always 


42  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

relatively  right,  a  genuine  verdict  (verum  dictum)^ 
though,  by  the  absolute  standard  of  right,  it  may  be 
wrong,  through  defect  of  knowledge',  —  precisely  as 
in  a  court  of  law  an  infallibly  wise  and  hicorniptibly 
just  judge  may  pronounce  an  utterly  erroneous  or  un- 
just decision,  if  he  have  before  him  a  false  statement 
of  facts,  or  if  the  law  which  he  is  compelled  to  ad- 
minister be  unrighteous. 

We  may  illustrate  the  function  of  conscience  by 
reference  to  a  question  now  agitated  in  our  commu- 
nity, —  the  question  as  to  the  moral  fitness  of  the 
moderate  use  of  fermented  liquors.  In  civilized 
society,  intoxication  is  universally  known  to  be  op- 
posed to  the  fitnesses  of  body  and  mind,  an  abuse  of 
alcoholic  liquors,  and  an  abuse  of  the  drinker's  own 
personality  ;  and  it  is  therefore  condemned  by  all  con- 
sciences, by  none  more  heartily  than  by  those  of  its 
victims.  But  there  still  remains  open  the  question 
whether  entire  abstinence  from  fermented  hquors  be 
a  duty,  and  this  is  a  question  of  fact.  Says  one 
party,  "  Alcohol,  in  every  form,  and  in  the  least  quan- 
tity, is  a  virulent  poison,  and  therefore  unfit  for  body 
and  mind."  Says  the  other  party,  "  Wine,  moder- 
ately used,  is  healthful,  salutary,  restorative,  and 
therefore  fitted  to  body  and  mind."  Change  the 
ophiion  of  the  latter  party,  their  consciences  would 
at  once  take  the  other  side ;  and  if  they  retained  in 
precept  and  practice  their  present  position,  they  would 
retain  it  self -condemned.  Change  the  opinion  of  the 
former   party,    their   consciences  would   assume    the 


CONSCIENCE.  43 

ground  whicli  they  now  assail.  Demonstrate  to  the 
whole  community  —  as  it  is  to  be  hoped  physiology 
mil  do  at  no  distant  day  —  the  2)recise  truth  in  this 
matter,  there  would  remain  no  difference  of  conscien- 
tious judgment,  whatever  difference  of  practice  might 
still  continue. 

Conscience,  like  all  the  perceptive  faculties, 
prompts  to  action  in  accordance  with  its  percep- 
tions. In  this  respect  it  differs  not  in  the  least  from 
sight,  hearing,  taste.  Our  natural  proclivity  is  to 
direct  our  movements  with  reference  to  the  objects 
within  the  field  of  our  vision,  to  govern  our  conduct 
by  what  we  hear,  to  take  into  our  mouths  only  sub- 
stances that  are  pleasing  to  the  taste.  Yet  fright, 
temerity,  or  courage  may  impel  us  to  incur  dangers 
which  we  clearly  see ;  opiniativeness  or  obstinacy 
may  make  us  inwardly  deaf  to  counsels  or  warnings 
which  we  hear  ;  and  motives  of  health  may  induce  us 
to  swallow  the  most  nauseous  drugs.  In  like  manner, 
our  inevitable  tendency  is  to  govern  our  conduct  by  the 
fitness  of  things  when  clearly  perceived ;  but  intense 
and  unrestrained  appetite,  desire,  or  affection  may 
lead  us  to  violate  that  fitness,  though  distinctly  seen 
and  acknowledged. 

Men  act  in  opposition  to  conscience  only  under 
immediate  and  strong  temptation.  The  great  ma- 
jority of  the  acts  of  bad  men  are  conscientious,  but 
not  therefore  meritorious ;  for  merit  consists  not  in 
doing  right  when  there  is  no  temptation  to  evil,  but 
in  resisting  temptation.     But,  as  has  been  said,  it  is 


44  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

as  natural,  when  there  is  no  inducement  to  the  con« 
trary,  to  act  in  accordance  with  the  fitness  of  things, 
as  it  is  to  act  in  accordance  with  what  we  see  and 
hoar.  It  is  the  tendency  so  to  act,  that  alone  renders 
human  society  possible,  in  the  absence  of  high  moral 
principle.  In  order  to  live,  a  man  must  so  act  with 
reference  to  outward  nature ;  still  more  must  he  so 
act  in  order  to  possess  human  fellowship,  physical 
comfort,  transient  enjoyment,  of  however  low  a  type  ; 
and  the  most  depraved  wretch  that  walks  the  earth 
purchases  his  continued  being  and  whatever  pleasure 
he  derives  from  it  by  a  thousand  acts  in  accordance 
with  the  fitness  of  things  to  one  in  which  he  violates 
that  fitness. 

Conscience,  like  all  the  perceptive  faculties,  is  edu- 
cated by  use.  The  watchmaker's  or  the  botanist's 
eye  acquires  an  almost  microscopic  keenness  of  vision. 
The  blind  man's  hearing  is  so  trained  as  to  supply,  in 
great  part,  the  lack  of  sight.  The  epicure's  taste  can 
discriminate  flavors  whose  differences  are  impercepti- 
ble to  an  ordinary  palate.  In  like  mamier,  the  con- 
science that  is  constantly  and  carefully  exercised  in 
judging  of  the  fit  and  the  unfitting,  the  right  and  the 
wrong,  becomes  prompt,  keen,  searching,  sensitive, 
comprehensive,  microscopic.  On  the  other  hand,  con- 
science, like  the  senses,  if  seldom  called  into  exercise, 
becomes  sluggish,  inert,  incapable  of  minute  discrimi- 
nation, or  of  vigilance  over  the  ordinary  conduct  of 
life.  Yet  it  is  never  extinct,  and  is  never  perverted. 
When  roused  to  action,  even  in  the  most  obdurate,  it 


CONSCIENCE.  45 

resumes  its  judicial  severity,  and  records  its  verdict 
in  remorseful  agony. 

Conscience  is  commonly  said  to  be  educated  by  the 
increase  of  knowledge  as  to  the  relations  of  beingo 
and  objects,  as  to  the  moral  laws  of  the  universe,  and 
as  to  religious  verities.  This,  however,  is  not  true. 
Knowledge  does  not  necessarily  quicken  the  activity 
of  conscience,  or  enhance  its  discriminating  power. 
Conscience  often  is  intense  and  vivid  in  the  most 
ignorant,  inactive  and  torpid  in  persons  whose  cog- 
nitive powers  have  had  the  most  generous  culture. 
Knowledge,  indeed,  brings  the  decisions  of  conscience 
into  closer  and  more  constant  conformity  with  the  ab- 
solute right,  but  it  does  not  render  its  decisions  more 
certainly  in  accordance  with  the  relative  right,  that 
is,  with  what  the  individual,  from  his  point  of  view, 
ought  to  will  and  do.  It  has  the  same  effect  upon 
conscience  that  accurate  testimony  has  upon  the  clear- 
minded  and  uncorrupt  judge,  whose  mind  is  not 
made  thereby  the  more  active  or  discriminating,  nor 
his  decision  brought  into  closer  accordance  with  the 
facts  as  they  are  presented  to  him.  Knowledge  is 
indeed  an  indispensable  auxiliary  to  conscience  ;  but 
this  cannot  be  affirmed  exclusively  of  any  specific 
department  of  knowledge.  It  is  true  of  all  knowl- 
edge ;  for  there  is  no  fact  or  law  in  the  universe  that 
may  not  in  some  contingency  become  the  subject- 
matter  or  the  occasion  for  the  action  of  conscience. 
Nothing  could  seem  mo/e  remote  from  the  ordinary 
fteld  of  conscience  than  the  theory  of  planetary  mo- 


46  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

tion ;  yet  it  was  this  that  gave  Galileo  the  one  grand 
opportunity  of  his  life  for  testing  the  supremacy  of 
conscience,  —  it  may  be,  the  sole  occasion  on  which  his 
conscience  uttered  itself  strongly'  against  his  seeming 
interest,  and  one  on  which  obedience  to  conscience 
would  have  averted  the  only  cloud  that  ever  rested  on 
his  fame. 

SECTION  n. 

SOURCES    OF    KNOWLEDGE.       1.    OBSERVATION,    EX- 
PERIENCE,   AND    TRADITION. 

Except  so  far  as  there  may  have  been  direct  commu- 
Dications  from  the  Supreme  Being,  all  man's  knowl- 
edge of  persons,  objects,  and  relations  is  derived,  in 
the  last  resort,  from  observation.  Experience  is 
merely  remembered  self-observation.  Tradition,  oral 
and  written,  is  accumulated  and  condensed  observa- 
tion ;  and  by  means  of  this  each  new  generation  can 
avail  itself  of  the  experience  of  preceding  genera- 
tions, can  thus  find  time  to  explore  fresh  departments 
of  knowledge,  and  so  transmit  its  own  traditions  to 
the  generations  that  shall  follow.  Now  what  we  ob- 
serve in  objects  is  chiefly  their  properties,  or,  what  is 
the  same  thing,  their  fitnesses  ;  for  a  property  is  that 
which  fits  an  object  for  a  specific  place  or  use.  What 
we  observe  in  persons  is  their  relations  to  other  beings 
and  objects,  with  the  fitnesses  that  belong  to  those 
relations.  What  we  experience  all  resolves  itseK  into 
the  fitness  or  unfitness  of  persons  and  objects  to  one 


KNOWLEDGE   OF  THE  RIGHT.  47 

another  or  to  ourselves.  What  is  transmitt<^d  in  his- 
tory and  in  science  is  the  record  of  fitnesses  or  unfit- 
nesses that  have  been  ascertained  by  observation,  or 
tested  by  experience.  The  progress  of  knowledge  ia 
simply  an  enlarged  acquaintance  with  the  fitnesses  of 
persons  and  things.  He  knows  the  most,  who  most 
fully  comprehends  the  relations  in  which  the  beings 
and  objects  in  the  universe  stand,  have  stood,  and 
ought  to  stand  toward  one  another.  Moreover,  as 
when  we  see  a  fitness  within  our  sphere  of  action,  we 
perceive  intuitively  that  it  is  right  to  respect  it,  wrong 
to  violate  it,  our  knowledge  of  right  and  wrong  is  co- 
extensive with  our  knowledge  of  persons  and  things. 
The  more  enlightened  and  cultivated  a  nation  is,  then, 
the  more  does  it  know  as  to  right  and  wrong,  what- 
ever may  be  its  standard  of  practical  morality. 

For  instance,  in  the  most  savage  condition,  men 
know,  with  reference  to  certain  articles  of  food  and 
drink,  that  they  are  adapted  to  relieve  the  cravings  of 
hunger  and  thirst,  and  they  know  nothing  more  about 
them.  They  are  not  acquainted  with  the  laws  of 
health,  whether  of  body  or  of  mind.  They  there- 
fore eat  and  drink  whatever  comes  to  hand,  without 
imagining  the  possibility  of  wrong-doing  in  this  mat- 
ter. But,  with  the  progress  of  civilization,  they 
learn  that  various  kinds  of  food  and  drink  impair  the 
health,  cloud  the  brain,  enfeeble  the  working  power, 
and  therefore  are  unfit  for  human  use  ;  and  no  sooner 
is  this  known,  than  the  distinction  of  right  and  wrong 
begins   to  be  recognized,  as   to   what   men  eat   and 


48  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 

drink.  The  more  thorough  is  the  knowledge  of  the 
human  body  and  of  the  action  of  various  substances 
on  its  organs  and  tissues,  the  more  minute  and  dis- 
criminating *vill  be  the  perception  of  fitness  or  unfit 
ness  as  to  the  objects  that  tempt  the  appetites,  ana 
the  keener  will  be  the  sense  of  right  or  wrong  in 
their  use. 

For  another  illustration  of  the  same  principle,  we 
may  take  the  relation  between  parents  and  chil- 
dren. In  the  ruder  stages  of  society,  and  especially 
among  a  nomadic  or  migratory  people,  there  is  not  a 
sujQBcient  knowledge  of  the  resources  of  nature  or  the 
possibilities  of  art,  to  render  even  healthy  and  vigor- 
ous life  more  than  tolerable  ;  while  for  the  infirm  and 
feeble,  life  is  but  a  protracted  burden  and  weariness. 
At  the  same  time,  there  is  no  apprehension  of  the  in- 
tellectual and  moral  worth  of  human  hfe,  still  less,  of 
the  value  even  of  its  most  painful  experiences  as  a 
discipline  of  everlasting  benefit.  In  fine,  life  is  little 
more  than  a  mere  struggle  for  existence.  What  won- 
der then,  that  in  some  tribes  filial  piety  has  been 
wont  to  reheve  superannuated  parents  from  an  exist- 
ence devoid  equally  of  joy  and  of  hope;  and  that  in 
others  parental  love  may  have  even  dictated  the  ex- 
posure—  with  a  view  to  their  perishing — of  feeble, 
sickly,  and  deformed  children,  incapable  of  being 
nurtured  into  self-sustaining  and  seK-depending  life  ? 
But  increased  conversance  with  nature  and  art  con- 
stantly reveals  new  capacities  of  comfort  and  happi- 
ness in  life,  and  that,  not  for  the  strong  alone,  but  foi 


KNOWLEDGE   OF  THE  RIG  HI.  49 

the  feeble,  Che  suffering,  the  helpless,  so  that  there  are 
none  to  whom  humanity  knows  not  how  to  render 
continued  life  desirable.  At  the  same  time,  a  higher 
culture  has  made  it  manifest  that  the  frailest  body 
may  be  the  seat  of  the  loftiest  mental  activity,  moral 
excellence,  and  spiritual  aspiration,  and  that  in  such  a 
body  there  is  often  only  a  surer  and  more  finished 
education  for  a  higher  state  of  being.  FiHal  piety 
and  parental  love,  therefore,  do  all  in  their  power  to 
prolong  the  flickering  existence  of  the  age-worn  and 
decrepit,  and  to  cherish  with  tender  care  the  Ufe 
which  seems  born  but  to  die.  There  is,  then,  to  the 
limited  view  of  the  savage,  an  apparent  fitness  in 
practices  which  in  their  first  aspect  seem  crimes 
against  nature  ;  while  increased  knowledge  develops 
a  real  and  essential  fitness  in  all  the  refinements  and 
endearments  of  the  most  persevering  and  skilful  love. 

These  examples,  which  might  be  multiplied  indefi- 
nitely, show  the  dependence  of  conscience  on 
knowledge,  not  for  relatively  right  decisions,  but  for 
verdicts  in  accordance  with  the  absolute  right.  There 
is  no  subject  that  can  be  presented  for  the  action  of 
conscience,  on  which,  upon  precisely  the  same  princi- 
ples, divergent  and  often  opposite  courses  of  conduct 
may  not  be  dictated  by  more  or  less  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  the  subject  and  its  relations. 

It  will  be  seen,  also,  that  with  the  growth  of 
knowledge,  conscience  has  a  constantly  wider 
scope  of  action.     The  number  of  indifferent  acts  is 

thus  diminished  ;   the  number  of  positively  right  or 
4 


60  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

wrong  acts,  increased.  An  indifferent  act  is  one  for 
the  performance  of  which,  rather  than  its  opposite, 
no  reason,  involving  a  question  of  right  or  wrong,  can 
be  given.  Thus,  if  tiie  performance  or  the  omission 
of  a  specific  act  be  equally  fitted  to  the  time,  place, 
circumstances,  and  persons  concerned,  the  act  is  an 
indifferent  one ;  or,  if  two  or  more  ways  of  accom- 
plishing a  desired  end  be  equally  fitted  to  time,  place, 
circumstances,  and  persons,  the  choice  between  these 
ways  is,  morally  speaking,  a  matter  of  indifference. 
But  with  a  knowledge  both  more  extensive  and  more 
minute  of  the  nature,  relations,  and  fitnesses  of  be- 
ings and  objects,  we  find  an  increasing  number  of  in 
stances  in  which  acts  that  seemed  indifferent  have  a 
clearly  perceptible  fitness  or  unfitness,  and  thus  ac- 
quire a  distinct  moral  character  as  right  or  wrong. 


SECTION  m. 

SOURCES   OF    KNOWLEDGE.      2.    LAW. 

Law  is  the  result  of  the  collective  experience, 
ill  part,  of  particular  communities,  in  part,  of  tlie 
human  race  as  a  whole.  It  encourages,  protects,  or  at 
least  permits  whatever  acts  or  modes  of  conduct  have 
been  found  or  believed  to  be  fitting,  in  accordance 
with  the  natui'e  of  things  and  the  well-being  of  men, 
and  therefore  right ;  it  forbids  and  punishes  such  acts 
or  modes  of  conduct  as  have  been  found  or  beheved  to 
be  unfitting,  opposed  to  nature  and  to  human  well- 


LA  W.  61 

being,  and  therefore  wrong.  It  is  far  from  perfect ; 
it  is  below  the  standard  of  the  most  advanced  minds ; 
but  it  represents  the  average  knowledge  or  belief 
of  the  community  to  which  it  belongs.  The  laws 
of  any  particular  state  cannot  rise  far  above  this 
average ;  for  laws  unsustained  by  general  opinion 
could  not  be  executed,  and  if  existing  in  the  statute- 
book,  they  would  not  have  the  nature  and  force  of 
law,  and  would  remain  on  record  simply  because  they 
bad  lapsed  out  of  notice.  Nor  can  they  fall  far 
below  this  average  ;  for  no  government  can  sustain 
itself  while  its  legislation  fails  to  meet  the  demands 
of  the  people. 

While  law  thus  expresses  the  average  knowledge 
or  belief,  it  tends  to  perpetuate  its  own  moral  stand- 
ard. The  notions  of  right  which  it  embodies  form  a 
part  of  the  general  education.  The  specific  crimes, 
vices,  and  wrongs  which  the  law  marks  out  for  pun- 
ishment are  regarded  by  young  persons,  from  their 
earliest  years,  j^s  worthy  of  the  most  emphatic  censure 
and  condemnation  ;  while  those  which  the  law  leaves 
unpunished  are  looked  upon  as  comparatively  slight 
and  venial.  Not  only  so,  the  degree  of  detestation  in 
which  a  community  learns  to  look  on  specific  crimes 
and  offences  is  not  in  proportion  to  their  actual  hei- 
nousness,  but  to  the  stress  of  overt  ignominy  attached 
to  them  by  legal  penalties.  Instances  of  this  effect 
of  law  on  opinion  will  be  readily  called  to  mind. 
Thus  a  common  thief  loses,  and  can  hardly  regain  his 
position  in  society  ;   wliiie  the  man  who  by  dishonest 


62  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

bankruptcy  commits  a  hundred  thefts  in  one,  can 
hold  his  phice  unchallenged,  even  in  the  Christian 
church,  while  it  is  known  to  every  one  that  he  is  liv- 
ing —  it  may  be  in  luxury  —  on  the  money  he  has 
stolen.  The  obvious  reason  is  that  from  time  imme- 
morial simple  theft  has  been  punished  with  due,  when 
not  with  undue,  severity,  while  the  comparatively 
recent  crime  of  fraudulent  bankruptcy  has  as  yet 
been  brought  very  imperfectly  within  the  grasp  of 
penal  law.  Again,  no  man  of  clear  moral  discern- 
ment can  doubt  that  he  who  consciously  and  willingly 
imbrutes  himself  by  intoxication  is  more  blameworthy 
than  he  who  sells  alcoholic  liquors  without  knowing 
whether  they  are  to  be  used  internally  or  externally, 
moderately  or  immoderately,  for  medicine  or  for  lux- 
ury. Yet  because  the  latter  makes  himself  liable  to 
fine  and  imprisonment,  while  the  former  —  unless  he 
belong  to  the  unprivileged  classes  —  has  legal  protec- 
tion, instead  of  the  disgraceful  punishment  he  de- 
serves, there  is  a  popular  prejudice  against  the  vender 
of  strong  drink,  and  a  strange  tenderness  toward  the 
intemperate  consumer.  Yet  another  instance.  There 
are  crimes  worse  than  murder.  There  are  modes  of 
moral  corruption  and  ruin,  whose  victims  it  were 
mercy  to  kill.  But  \\  hile  the  murderer,  if  he  escape 
the  gallows,  is  an  outcast  and  an  object  of  universal 
abhorrence,  no  social  ban  rests  upon  him  whose  crime 
has  been  the  death  of  innocence  and  purity,  yet,  if 
reached  at  all  by  law,  can  be  compounded  by  the  pay- 
ment of  monev 


LAW.  63 

But  though  law  is  in  many  respects  an  imperfect 
moral  teacher,  and  its  deficiencies  are  to  be  regret- 
ted, its  educational  power  is  strongly  felt  for  good, 
especially  in  communities  where  the  administration  of 
justice  is  strict  and  impartial.  It  is  of  no  little  worth 
that  a  child  grows  up  with  some  fixed  beliefs  as  to 
the  turpitude  of  certain  forms  of  evil,  especially  as 
the  positive  enactments  of  the  penal  law  almost 
always  coincide  with  the  wisest  judgments  of  the 
best  men  in  the  community.  Moreover,  law  is  pro- 
gressive in  every  civilized  community,  and  in  pro- 
portion as  it  approaches  the  standard  of  absolute 
right,  it  tends  to  bring  the  moral  beliefs  of  the  people 
into  closer  conformity  with  the  same  standard.  It  is, 
then,  a  partial  and  narrow  view  of  law  to  regard  it 
only  or  chiefly  as  the  instrument  of  society  for  the 
detection  and  punishment,  or  even  for  the  direct  pre- 
vention of  crime.  Its  far  more  important  function  is 
80  to  train  the  greater  part  of  each  rising  generation, 
that  certain  forms  and  modes  of  evil-doing  shall  nevei 
enter  into  their  plans  or  purposes. 

The  civil,  no  less  than  the  criminal  law  is  a  source 
of  knowledge  as  to  the  right.  The  law  does  not  cre- 
ate, but  merely  defines  the  rights  appertaining  to 
persons  and  property.  The  laws  of  different  nations 
are,  indeed,  widely  different  ;  but  there  may  be  that 
in  their  respective  histories  which  makes  a  difference 
in  the  actual  rights  of  citizens,  or  their  civil  codes  may 
present  different  stages  of  approach  toward  the  right. 
Thus  the  laws  as  to  tin?  conveyance  and  inheritance 


54  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

of  propei-ty  are  in  some  respects  unlike  in  France, 
England,  and  the  United  States,  and  vary  considerably 
in  the  several  States  of  our  Union  ;  but  there  gener- 
ally exist  historical  reasons  for  this  variation,  and  it 
would  be  found  that  the  ends  of  justice  are  best 
served,  and  the  reasonable  expectations  of  the  people 
best  met  in  each  community,  by  its  own  methods  of 
procedure.  By  the  law  of  the  land,  then,  we  may 
learn  civil  rights  and  obligations,  which  we  have  not 
the  means  of  ascertaining  by  our  own  independent 
research. 

It  remains  for  us  to  speak  of  the  factitious  rights 
and  wrongs,  supposed  to  be  created  by  law.  Of 
these  there  are  many.  Thus  one  mode  of  transacting 
a  sale  or  transfer  is  in  itself  as  good  as  another  ;  and 
it  might  be  plausibly  maintained  that,  if  the  business 
be  fairly  and  honorably  conducted,  it  matters  not 
whether  the  legally  prescribed  forms  —  sometimes 
burdensome  and  costly  —  be  complied  with  or  omit- 
ted. The  law,  it  may  be  said,  here  creates  an  obliga- 
tion for  which  there  is  no  ground  in  nature  or  the 
fitness  of  things.  This  we  deny.  It  is  intrinsically 
fitting  that  all  transactions  which  are  liable  to  dispute 
or  question  should  be  performed  in  ways  in  which 
they  can  be  attested ;  and  this  cannot  be  effected 
except  by  the  establishment  of  uniform  methods.  He 
who  departs  from  them  performs  not  only  an  illegal, 
but  an  immoral  act ;  and  the  legal  provisions  of  the 
kind  under  discussion  have  an  educational  value  in 
enlarging  the  knowledge  of  the  individual  as  to  the 


RELIGION.  55 

conditions  and  means  of   security,  order,  and  good 
imderstanding  in  human  society. 

Similar  considerations  apply  to  the  crimes  created 
by  law.  Smuggling  may  serve  as  an  instance.  Uu- 
doubtedly  there  are  smugglers  who  would  not  steal ; 
and  their  apology  is  that  they  are  but  exercising  the 
rights  of  ownership  upon  their  own  property.  But 
the  public  must  have  property,  else  its  community  is 
dissolved  ;  government  must  be  able  to  avail  itself  of 
that  property,  else  its  functions  are  suspended.  Men 
need  to  be  taught  that  the  rights  of  the  state  are 
inseparable  from  those  of  individuals,  and  no  less 
sacred,  and  the  laws  that  protect  the  revenue  are 
among  the  most  eflBcient  means  of  teaching  this 
lesson.  Their  only  defect  is  that  they  attach  less 
ignominy  to  frauds  upon  the  revenue  than  to  other 
modes  of  theft,  and  thus  fail  to  declare  the  whole 
truth,  that  there  is  no  moral  difference  between  him 
who  robs  the  public  and  him  who  robs  any  one  of  its 
individual  members. 

SECTION  IV. 
SOURCES   OF   KNOWLEDGE.       3.    CHBISTIANITr. 

Religion,  in  its  relation  to  ethics,  may  be  regarded 
both  as  a  source  of  knowledge,  and  as  supplying 
motives  for  the  performance  of  duty.  We  are  now 
concerned  with  it  in  the  former  aspect ;  and  it  will 
be  suflBcient  for  our  present  purpose  to  ascertain  how 
much  Christianity  adds  to  our  knowledge  of  the  fit- 


66  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY, 

nesses  that  underlie  all  questions  of  right  and  duty 
We  by  no  means  undervalue  the  beneficent  ministry 
of  natural  religion  in  the  department  of  ethics ;  but 
the  most  sceptical  admit  that  Christianity  includes 
all  of  natural  religion,  while  its  disciples  claim  that 
it  not  only  teaches  natural  religion  with  a  certainty, 
precision,  and  authority  which  else  were  wanting,  but 
imparts  a  larger  and  profounder  knowledge  of  God 
and  the  universe  than  is  within  the  scope  of  man's 
unaided  reason. 

Christianity  covers  the  entire  field  of  human 
duty,  and  reveals  many  fitnesses,  recognized  when 
seen,  but  discovered  by  few  or  none  independently  of 
the  teachings  and  example  of  its  Founder ;  while  it 
gives  the  emphasis  and  sanction  of  a  Divine  revela- 
tion to  many  other  fitnesses,  easily  discoverable,  but 
liable  to  be  overlooked  and  neglected. 

In  defining  the  relations  of  the  individual  human 
soul  to  God,  Christianity  opens  to  our  view  a  depart- 
ment of  duty  paramount  to  all  others  in  importance 
and  interest.  His  fatherly  love  and  care,  his  moral 
government  and  discipline,  his  retributive  providence, 
define  with  unmistakable  distinctness  certain  corre- 
sponding modes,  in  part,  of  outward  action,  and  in 
still  greater  part,  of  action  in  that  inward  realm  of 
thought  whence  the  outward  life  receives  its  direction 
and  impulse. 

The  brotherhood  of  the  whole  human  race,  also, 
reveals  obligations  which  would  exist  on  no  other 
ground;  and  for  the  clear  and  self -evidencing  state- 


IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL.  57 

ment  uf  this  truth  we  are  indebted  solely  to  Chris- 
tianity. The  visible  differences  of  race,  color,  cult- 
ure, religion,  and  customs,  are  in  themselves  dissociat- 
ing influences.  Universal  charity  is  impossible  while 
these  differences  occupy  the  foreground.  Slavery  was 
a  natural  and  congenial  institution  under  Pagan  au- 
spices ;  nor  have  we  in  all  ancient  extra-Christian 
literature,  unless  it  be  in  Seneca  (in  whom  such  sen- 
timents may  have  had  indirectly^  a  Christian  origin), 
a  single  expression  of  a  fellowship  broad  enough  to 
embrace  all  diversities  of  condition,  much  less,  of  race. 
But  the  Christian,  so  far  as  he  consents  to  receive  the 
obvious  and  undoubted  import  of  Christ's  mission  and 
teachings,  must  regard  all  men  as,  in  nature,  in  the 
paternal  care  of  the  Divine  Providence,  in  religious 
privileges,  rights,  and  capacities,  on  an  equal  footing. 
With  this  view,  he  cannot  but  perceive  the  fitness, 
and  therefore  the  obligation,  of  many  forms  of  social 
duty,  of  enlarged  beneficence,  of  unlimited  philan- 
thropy, which  on  any  restricted  theory  of  human 
brotherhood  would  be  neither  fitting  nor  reasonable. 
The  immortality  of  the  soul,  in  the  next  place, 
casts  a  light  at  once  broad  and  penetrating  upon  and 
into  every  department  of  duty ;  for  it  is  obvious, 
without  detailed  statement,  that  the  fitnesses,  needs, 
and  obligations  of  a  terrestrial  being  of  brief  dura- 
tion, and  those  of  a  being  in   the  nursery  and  first 

1  The  theory  that  Seneca  was  i  cquainted  with  St.  Paul,  or  had  any 
direct  intercours>'^  with  Christians  in  Rome  or  elsewhere,  has  no  historical 
evidence,  and  res  s  on  assumptions  that  are  contradicted  by  known  facts. 


58  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

stage  of  an  endless  existence,  are  very  wide  apart,  — 
that  the  latter  may  find  it  fitting,  and  therefore  may 
deem  it  right,  to  do,  seek,  shun,  omit,  endure,  resign, 
many  things  which  to  the  former  are  very  properly 
matters  of  indifference.  Immortality  was,  in  a  cer- 
tain  sense,  believed  before  the  advent  of  Christ,  but 
not  with  sufficient  definiteness  and  assurance  to  oc- 
cupy a  prominent  place  in  any  ethical  system,  or  to 
furnish  the  point  of  view  from  which  all  things  in  the 
earthly  life  were  to  be  regarded.  Indeed,  some  of 
the  most  virtuous  of  the  ancients,  among  others 
Epictetus,  than  whom  there  was  no  better  man,  ex- 
pressly denied  the  life  after  death,  and,  of  course, 
could  have  had  no  conception  of  the  aspects  of  human 
and  earthly  affairs  as  seen  in  the  light  of  eternity. 

Christianity  makes  yet  another  contribution  to  eth- 
ical knowledge  in  the  person  and  character  of  its 
Founder,  exhibiting  in  him  the  very  fitnesses  it  pre- 
scribes, showing  us,  as  it  could  not  in  mere  precept, 
the  proportions  and  harmonies  of  the  virtues,  and 
manifesting  the  unapproached  beauty  and  majesty  of 
the  gentler  virtues,^  which  in  pre-Christian  ages  were 
sometimes  made  secondary,  sometimes  repudiated  with 
contempt  and  derision.  We  cannot  overestimate  the 
importance  of  this  teaching  by  example.  The  instances 
are  very  numerous,  in  which  the  fitness  of  a  specific 
mode  of  conduct  can  be  tested  only  by  experiment  ; 
and  Jesus  Christ  tried  successfully  several  experiments 
in  morals  that  had  not  been  tried  before  within  the 

1  Firtuics  Icniores,  as  Cicero  calls  them. 


CHRISTIAN  ETHICS.  59 

memory  of  man,  and  evinced,  in  his  own  person  and 
by  the  success  of  his  religion,  the  superior  worth  and 
efficacy  of  qualities  which  had  not  previously  borne 
tlie  name  of  virtues. 

Christianity  still  further  enlarges  our  ethical  knowl- 
edge by  declaring  the  universality  of  moral  laws. 
There  are  many  cases,  in  which  it  might  seem  to  us 
not  only  expedient,  but  even  right,  to  set  aside  some 
principle  acknowledged  to  be  valid  in  the  greater 
number  of  instances,  to  violate  justice  or  truth  for 
some  urgent  claim  of  charity,  or  to  consent  to  the 
performance  of  a  little  evil  for  the  accomplishment  of 
a  great  good.  But  in  all  such  cases  Christianity  inter- 
poses its  peremptory  precepts,  assuring  us  on  authority 
which  the  Christian  regards  as  supreme  and  infalhble, 
that  there  are  no  exceptions  or  qualifications  to  any 
rule  of  right ;  that  the  moral  law,  in  all  its  parts,  is  of 
inalienable  obligation,  and  that  the  greatest  good  can- 
not but  be  the  ultimate  result  of  inflexible  obedience. 

That  Christianity  gives  a  fuller  knowledge  of  the 
right  than  can  be  attained  independently  of  its  teach- 
ings, is  shown  by  the  review  of  all  extra-Christian 
ethical  systems.  There  is  not  one  of  these  which  does 
not  confessedly  omit  essential  portions  of  the  right, 
and  hardly  one  which  does  not  sanction  dispositions 
and  modes  of  conduct  confessedly  wrong  and  evil  ; 
while  even  those  who  disclaim  Christianity  as  a 
Divine  revelation,  fail  to  detect  like  omissions  and 
blemishes  in  the  ethics  of  the  New  Testament.  Thus, 
though  there   is  hardly  a   precept  of    Jesus    Chiist, 


tlO  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

the  like  of  which  cannot  be  found  in  the  ethical 
writings  of  Greece,  China,  India,  or  Persia,  the  fault- 
lessness  and  completeness  of  his  teachings  give  them 
a  position  by  themselves,  and  are  among  the  strongest 
internal  evidences  of  their  divinity.  They  are  also 
distinguished  from  the  ethical  systems  of  other  teach- 
ers by  their  positiveness.  Others  say,  "Thou  shall 
not ;  "  Jesus  Christ  says,  "  Thou  shalt."  They  for- 
bid and  prohibit ;  He  commands.  They  prescribe 
abstinence  from  evil ;  He,  a  constant  approach  to 
perfection.  Buddhism  is,  in  our  time,  often  referred 
to  as  occupying  a  higher  plane  than  Christianity  ; 
but  its  precepts  are  all  negative,  its  virtues  are  nega- 
tive, and  its  disciple  is  deemed  most  nearly  perfect, 
when  in  body,  mind,  and  soul  he  has  made  him- 
self utterly  quiescent  and  inert.  Christianity,  on  the 
other  hand,  enjoins  the  unresting  activity  of  all  the 
powers  and  faculties  in  pursuit  of  the  highest  ends. 


CHAPTER  Vr. 

RIGHTS   AND   OBLIGATIONS. 

/^F  the  things  that  are  fitting  and  right,  there  are 
some  which,  though  they  may  be  described  in 
general  terms,  cannot  be  defined  and  limited  with  en- 
tire accuracy ;  there  are  others  which  are  so  obvioua 
and  manifest,  or  so  easily  ascertained,  that,  in  pre- 
cise form  and  measure,  they  may  be  claimed  by  those 
to  whom  they  are  due,  and  required  of  those  from 
whom  they  are  due.  These  last  are  rights,  and  the 
duties  which  result  from  them  are  obligations.  Thus 
it  is  right  that  a  poor  man  should  be  relieved ;  and  it 
is  my  duty,  so  far  as  I  can,  to  relieve  the  poor.  But 
this  or  that  individual  poor  man  cannot  claim  that  it 
is  my  duty  rather  than  that  of  my  neighbor  to  min- 
ister to  his  needs,  or  that  I  am  bound  to  give  him 
what  I  might  otherwise  give  to  his  equally  needy 
neighbor.  He  has  no  specific  right  to  any  portion  of 
my  money  or  goods  ;  I  have  no  specific  obligation  to 
give  him  anything.  But  if  a  man  has  lent  me 
money,  he  has  a  right  to  as  much  of  my  money  or 
goods  as  will  repay  him  with  interest  ;  and  I  am 
under  an  obligation  thus  to  repay  him.  Again,  it  is 
right  that  m  the  public  highway  there  should  be, 
among  those  who  make  it  their  thoroughfare,  mutual 


62  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY, 

accommodation,  courtesy,  and  kindness  ;  but  no  one 
man  can  prescribe  the  precise  distance  within  which 
he  shall  not  be  approached,  or  the  precise  amomit  of 
pressure  which  may  be  allowable  to  his  abutters  in  a 
crowd.  Nor  yet  can  the  individual  citizen  occupy  the 
street  in  such  a  way  as  to  obstruct  those  who  make 
use  of  it.  He  has  no  exclusive  rights  in  the  street ; 
nor  are  others  under  obhgation  to  yield  to  him  any 
peculiar  privileges.  But  he  has  a  right  to  exclude 
whom  he  will  from  his  own  garden,  and  to  occupy  it 
in  whatever  way  may  please  him  best ;  and  his  fellow- 
citizens  are  under  obligation  to  keep  their  feet  from 
his  alleys  and  flower-beds,  their  hands  from  liis  fruit, 
and  to  abstain  from  all  acts  that  may  annoy  or  injure 
him  in  the  use  and  enjo^^ment  of  his  garden. 

Rights  —  with  the  corresponding  obligations  — 
might  be  divided  into  natiiral  and  legal.  But  the 
division  is  nominal  rather  than  real  ;  for,  in  the  first 
place,  there  are  no  natural  rights,  capable  of  being 
defined,  which  are  not  in  civilized  countries  under 
the  sanction  and  protection  of  law ;  secondly,  it  is 
an  open  question  whether  some  generally  recognized 
lights  —  as,  for  instance,  that  of  property  —  exist  in- 
dependently of  law;  and,  thirdly,  it  may  be  main- 
tained, on  the  other  hand,  that  law  is  powerless  to 
rreate,  competent  only  to  declare  rights. 

One  chief  agency  of  law  as  to  rights  is  exercised  in 
limiting  natural  rights.  Considered  simply  in  his 
relation  to  outward  nature,  a  man  has  a  manifest 
ri^ht  to  whatever  he  can  make  tributary  to  his  enjoy- 


RIGHTS.  G3 

ment  or  vvell-bemg.  But  his  fellow-men  have  the 
same  right.  If,  then,  there  be  a  restricted  supply  of 
what  he  and  they  may  claim  by  equal  right,  the  alter- 
native is,  on  the  one  hand,  usurpation  or  perpetual 
strife,  or,  on  the  other,  an  adjustment  by  which  each 
shall  yield  a  part  of  what  he  might  claim  were  there 
no  fellow-claimant,  and  thus  each  shall  have  his  pro- 
portion of  what  belongs  equally  to  all.  To  make  this 
adjustment  equitably  is  the  province  of  law.  The 
problem  which  it  attempts  to  solve  is.  How  may  each 
individual  citizen  secure  the  fullest  amount  of  liberty 
and  of  material  well-being,  consistent  with  the  ad- 
mitted or  established  rights  of  others  ?  Under  repub- 
lican institutions,  this  problem  presents  itself  in  the 
simplest  form,  society  being  in  principle  an  equal 
partnership,  in  which  no  one  man  can  claim  a  larger 
dividend  than  another.  But  where  birth  or  condi- 
tion confers  certain  peculiar  rights,  the  problem  must 
be  so  modified,  that  the  rights  conceded  to  the  com- 
mon citizens  shall  not  interfere  with  these  inherited 
or  vested  rights.  In  either  case,  the  rights  of  each 
member  of  the  community  are  bounded  only  by  the 
conterminous  rights  of  others.  Obligations  corre- 
spond to  rights.  Each  member  of  the  community  is 
under  obligation,  always  to  refrain  from  encroachment 
on  the  rights  of  others,  and  in  many  cases  to  aid  in 
securing  or  defending  those  rights,  he  on  like  occa- 
sions and  in  similar  ways  having  his  own  rights  pro- 
tected by  others. 

We  will   consider    separately  rights  appertaining 
to  the  person,  to  property,  and  to  reputation. 


64  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

1 .  Rights  appertaining  to  the  person.  The  most 
essential  of  these  is  the  right  to  hfe,  on  which  of 
course  all  else  that  can  be  enjoyed  is  contingent. 
This  right  is  invaded,  not  only  by  direct  violence,  but 
by  whatever  may  impair  or  endanger  health.  The 
corresponding  obligation  of  the  individual  member  of 
society  is  to  refrain  from  all  acts,  employments,  or 
recreations  that  may  imperil  life  or  health,  and  of 
society  collectively,  to  furnish  a  police-force  adequate 
to  the  protection  of  its  members,  to  forbid  and  punish 
all  crimes  of  violence,  to  enact  and  maintain  proper 
sanitary  regulations,  and  to  suppress  such  nuisances 
as  may  be  not  only  annoying,  but  harmful. 

But  the  citizen  is  entitled  to  protection,  only  so 
long  as  he  refrains  from  acts  by  which  he  puts  other 
lives  in  peril.  If  he  assault  another  man  with  a 
deadly  weapon,  and  his  own  life  be  taken  in  the  en- 
counter, the  slayer  has  violated  no  right,  nay,  so  far 
as  moral  considerations  are  concerned,  he  is  not  even 
the  slayer  ;  for  the  man  who  wrongfully  puts  himself 
in  a  position  in  which  another  life  can  be  protected 
only  at  the  peril  of  his  own,  if  his  own  be  forfeited, 
has  virtually  committed  suicide.  Nor  is  the  case  ma- 
terially altered,  if  a  man  in  performing  an  unlawful 
act  puts  himself  in  a  position  in  which  he  may  be 
reasonably  supposed  to  intend  violence.  Thus,  while 
both  law  and  conscience  would  condemn  me  if  I 
killed  a  thief  in  broad  daylight,  in  order  to  protect 
my  property,  —  if  a  burglar  enter  my  house  by  night 
with  no  intention  of  violence,  and  yet  in  the  surprise 


hWHT  TO  LIFE  LIMITED.  bo 

j^nd  diirkness  of  the  hour  I  have  reason  to  suppose 
my  life  and  the  lives  of  my  family  in  danger  from 
him,  the  law  regards  my  slaying  of  such  a  person  as 
justifiable  homicide  ;  and  my  conscience  would  acquit 
n»»  in  defending  the  right  to  life  appertaining  to  my 
family  and  myself,  against  one  whose  intention  or 
willingness  to  commit  violence  was  to  be  reasonably 
inferred  from  his  own  unlawful  act. 

Society,  through  the  agency  of  law,  in  some  cases 
and  directions  limits  the  right  of  the  individual 
citizen  to  life,  and  this  to  the  contingent  benefit 
of  each,  —  to  the  absolute  benefit  of  all.  So  long 
as  men  are  less  than  perfect  in  character  and  con- 
dition, there  must  of  necessity  be  some  sacrifice  of 
life  ;  but  this  sacrifice  may  be  reduced  to  its  mini 
mum  by  judicious  legislation.  Now,  if  without  such 
legislation  the  percentage  of  deaths  would  be  numer- 
ically much  higher  than  under  well-framed  laws,  the 
lives  sacrificed  under  these  laws  are  simply  cases  in 
which  the  right  of  the  individual  is  made  to  yield  to 
the  paramount  rights  of  the  community.  Thus,  there 
can  be  no  doubt,  that  contagious  disease  of  the  most 
malignant  type  could,  in  many  cases,  be  more  suc- 
cessfully treated  at  the  homes  of  the  patients  than  in 
public  hospitals.  But  if  by  the  removal  of  patients 
to  hospitals  the  number  of  cases  may  be  greatly 
avmimshed,  and  the  contagion  speedily  arrested,  this 
removal  is  the  right  of  the  community,  —  yet  not  under 
circumstances  of  needless  privation  and  hardship,  not 
without  the  best  appliances  of  comfort,  care,  and  skill 


66  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

which  money  can  procure  ;  for  the  pubbc  can  be  justi- 
fied in  the  exercise  of  such  a  rig] it,  only  by  the  ex- 
tension of  the  most  generous  officer  of  humanity  to 
those  who  are  imperilled  for  the  public  good. 

It  is  only  on  similar  grounds  that  the  death-penalty 
for  murder  can  be  justified.  The  life  of  the  very 
worst  of  men  should  be  sacrificed  only  for  the  pres- 
ervation of  life  ;  for  if  it  be  unsafe  to  leave  them  at 
liberty,  they  may  be  kept  under  restraint  and  du- 
ress, without  being  wholly  cut  off  from  the  means  of 
enjoyment  and  improvement.  The  primeval  custom 
of  the  earlier  nations  required  the  nearest  kinsman 
of  the  murdered  man  to  kill  the  murderer  with  his 
own  hand,  and  in  so  doing  to  shed  his  blood,  which 
was  beheved  to  have  a  mysterious  efficacy  in  ex- 
piating the  crime.  This  form  of  revenge  was  greatly 
checked  and  restricted  by  the  institutions  of  Moses ; 
it  fell  into  disuse  among  the  Jews,  with  their  growth 
in  civiHzation ;  and  was  certainly  included  in  the  en- 
tire repeal  of  the  law  of  retaUation  by  Jesus  Christ  ^ 

1  The  duty  of  society  to  inflict  capital  punishment  on  the  murderer  has 
b«en  maintained  on  the  ground  of  the  Divine  command  to  that  effect,  said 
to  have  been  given  to  Noah,  and  thus  to  be  binding  on  all  his  posterity. 
(Gkaesis  ix.  5.)  My  own  belief — founded  on  a  careful  examination  of  the 
Hebrew  text  —  is,  that  the  human  murderer  is  not  referred  to  m  this  pre- 
cept, but  that  it  simply  requires  the  slaying  of  the  beast  that  should  cause 
the  death  of  a  man,  —  &  precaution  which  was  liable  to  be  neglected  in  a  rude 
state  of  society,  an<  was  among  the  special  enactments  of  the  Mosaic  law. 
vExodas  xxi.  28.)  If,  however,  the  common  interpretation  be  retained, 
tLfc  precept  reiiuires  the  shedding  of  the  murderer's  blood  by  the  brother  or 
nearest  kinsman  of  the  murdered  man,  and  is  not  obeyed  by  giving  up  the 
murderer  to  the  gallows  and  the  public  executioner.    Moreover,  the  samfl 


THE  DEATH-PENALTY.  67 

But  if  with  the  dangerous  classes  of  men  the  dread 
of  capital  punishment  is  a  dissuasive  from  crimes  of 
violence,  so  that  the  number  of  jiuirders  is  less,  and 
t>he  lives  of  peaceable  citizens  are  safer,  than  were 
murder  liable  to  some  milder  penalty,  then  it  is  the 
undoubted  right  of  the  public  to  confiscate  the  mur- 
derer's right  to  life,  and  thus  to  sacrifice  the  smaller 
number  of  comparatively  worthless  lives  for  the  secu- 
rity of  the  larger  number  of  Uves  that  may  be  valuable 
to  the  community.  Or  again  if,  by  the  profligate  use 
of  the  pardoning  power,  the  murderer  sentenced  to 
perpetual  imprisonment  will  probably  be  let  loose 
upon  society  unreformed,  and  with  passions  which 
may  lead  to  the  repetition  of  his  crime,  it  is  immeas- 
urably more  fitting  that  he  be  killed,  than  that  he 
be  preserved  to  do  farther  mischief.  Yet  again,  if 
there  be  in  the  death-penalty  for  murder  an  educa- 
tional force,  —  if  by  means  of  it  each  new  generation 
is  trained  in  the  greater  reverence .  for  human  life, 
and  the  greater  detestation  and  horror  of  the  crime 
by  which  it  is  destroyed,  —  then  is  capital  punish- 
ment to  be  retained  as  a  means  of  preserving  an  in- 
calculably greater  number  of  lives  than  it  sacrifices. 
On  these  grounds,  though  in  opposition  to  early  and 
strong  conviction,  we  are  constrained  to  express  the 

r?ne8  ol  precepts  prescribes  an  abstinence  from  the  natural  juices  of  animal 
Joi..  which  would  require  an  entire  revolution  in  our  shambles,  kitchens, 
and  tables.  If  these  precepts  were  Divine  commandments  for  men  of  all 
times,  they  should  be  obeyed  in  full ;  but  there  is  the  grossest  inconsistency 
and  absurdity  in  holding  only  a  porl  ion  of  one  of  them  sacred,  and  ignor 
in^  all  the  rest. 


68  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 

belief  that,  in  our  time  and  countr}',  the  capital  pun- 
ishment of  the  murderer  is  needed  for  the  security  of 
tlie  public,  and  is  justified  as  a  life-saving  measure. 

In  enforced  military  service,  also,  legal  authority 
exposes  the  lives  of  a  portion  of  the  citizens  for  the 
security  of  the  greater  number.  It  is  an  unquestion- 
able truth  that,  in  its  moral  affinities,  war  is  gen- 
erated by  evil,  is  allied  to  numberless  forms  of  evil, 
and  has  a  countless  progeny  of  evil.  But  it  is  equally 
true  that  war  will  recur  at  not  unfrequent  intervals, 
80  long  as  the  moral  evils  from  which  it  springs 
remain  unreformed.  Such  are  the  complications  of 
international  affairs,  that  the  most  righteous  and 
pacific  poHcy  may  not  always  shield  a  people  from 
hostile  aggressions ;  while  insurrection,  sedition,  and 
civil  war  may  result  not  only  from  governmental 
oppression,  but  from  the  most  salutary  measures  of 
reform  and  progi*ess.  In  such  cases,  self-defence  on 
the  part  of  the  nation  or  the  government  assailed,  is 
a  right  and  an  obligation,  due  even  in  the  interest 
of  human  life,  and  still  more,  in  behalf  of  interests 
more  precious  than  life.  Moreover,  even  in  a  war  of 
unprovoked  aggression,  the  aggressive  nation  does 
not  forfeit  the  right  of  self-defence  by  the  unprin- 
cipled ambition  of  its  rulers,  and,  war  once  declared. 
Its  vigorous  pursuit  may  be  the  only  mode  of  averting 
lisastei  or  ruin.  Thus  war,  though  always  involving 
atrocious  wrong  on  the  part  of  its  promoters  and 
abettors,  becomes  to  the  nations  involved  in  it  a 
necessity  for  which  they  are  compelled  to  provide. 


RIGHT  TO  LIBERTY,  69 

This  provision  may,  in  some  cases,  be  made  by  volun- 
tary enlistment ;  but  in  most  civilized  countries,  it 
has  been  found  necessary  to  fill  and  recruit  the  army 
by  conscription,  thus  forcibly  endangering  the  lives  of 
a  portion  of  the  citizens,  in  order  to  avert  from  the 
soil  and  the  homes  of  the  people  at  large  the  worse 
calamities  of  invasion,  devastation,  and  conquest.  So 
far  as  this  is  necessary,  it  is  undoubtedly  right,  and 
the  lives  thus  sacrificed  are  justly  due  to  the  safety 
and  well-being  of  the  whole  people.  But  in  making 
this  admission,  we  would  say,  without  abatement  oi 
qualification,  that  war  is  essentially  inhuman,  bar* 
barous,  and  opposed  to  and  by  the  principles  and 
spirit  of  Christianity,  and  that  should  the  world  ever 
be  thoroughly  Christianized,  the  ages  when  war  was 
possible,  will  be  looked  back  upon  with  the  same 
horror  with  which  we  now  regard  cannibalism. 

Associated  with  the  right  to  life,  and  essential  to 
its  full  enjoyment,  is  the  right  to  liberty.  This  in- 
cludes the  right  to  diiect  one's  own  employments  and 
recreations,  to  divide  and  use  his  time  as  may  seem  to 
him  good,  to  go  where  he  pleases,  to  bestow  his  vote 
or  his  influence  in  public  affairs  as  he  thinks  best,  and 
to  express  his  own  opinions  orally,  in  writing,  or 
through  the  press,  without  hindrance  or  molestation. 
These  several  rights  belong  equally  to  all ;  but  as  they 
cannot  be  exercised  in  full  without  mutual  interference 
and  annoyance,  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  utter- 
ing itself  through  law,  permits  each  individual  to 
enjoy  them  only  so  far  as  he  can  consistently  with 


?0  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

the  freedom,  comfort,  and  well-being  of  his  fellow- 
citizens. 

Slavery  is  so  nearly  extirpated  from  Christendom, 
that  it  is  superfluous  to  enter  into  the  controversy, 
wliich  a  few  years  ago  no  treatise  on  Moral  Philos- 
ophy could  have  evaded.  It  was  defended  only  by 
patent  sophistry,  and  its  advocates  iuguod  from  the 
fact  to  the  right,  inventing  the  latter  to  sustain  the 
former. 

Personal  liberty  is  legally  and  rightfully  re- 
stricted in  the  case  of  minors,  on  the  ground  of  their 
immature  judgment  and  discretion,  of  their  natural 
state  of  dependence  on  parents,  and  of  their  usual 
abode  under  the  parental  roof.  The  age  of  mature 
discretion  varies  very  widely,  not  only  in  different 
races,  but  among  different  individuals  of  the  same 
race,  as  does  also  the  period  of  emancipation  from  the 
controlling  influence  of  parents,  and  of  an  indepen- 
dent and  self-sustaining  condition  in  life.  But,  as  it 
is  impossible  for  government  to  institute  special  in- 
quiries in  the  case  of  each  individual,  and  as,  were 
this  possible,  there  would  be  indefinite  room  for 
favoritism  and  invidious  distinctions,  there  is  an  in- 
trinsic fitness  in  fixing  an  average  age  at  which  pa- 
rental or  ^-wasz-parental  tutelage  shall  cease,  and  after 
which  the  man  shall  have  full  and  sole  responsibility 
for  his  own  acts.  It  is  perfectly  obvious  that  the  lib- 
erty of  the  insane  and  feeble-minded  ought  to  be  re- 
stricted so  far  as  is  necessary  for  their  own  safety  and 
for  that  of  others.     There  is,  also,  in  most  cominuni- 


LIMITATIONS  OF  FREEDOM.  71 

ties,  a  provision  by  which  notorious  spendthrifts  may 
be  put  under  guardianship,  and  thus  restrained  in 
what  might  be  claimed  as  their  rightful  disposal  of 
tlieir  own  property.  This  may  be  justified  on  the 
ground  that,  by  persistent  wastefulness,  they  may 
throw  upon  the  public  the  charge  of  their  own  sup- 
port and  that  of  their  families. 

Imprisonnient  is,  on  the  part  of  society,  a  meas- 
ure, not  of  revenge,  but  of  self-defence.  The  design 
of  this  mode  of  punishment  is,  first,  to  prevent  the 
speedy  repetition  of  the  crime  on  the  part  of  the  per- 
son punished ;  secondly,  so  to  work,  either  upon  his 
moral  nature  by  confinement,  labor,  and  instruction, 
or  at  the  worst,  on  his  fears,  by  the  dread  of  repeated 
and  longer  restraint,  that  he  may  abstain  from  crime 
in  future ;  and  lastly,  to  deter  those  who  might  other- 
wise be  tempted  to  crime  from  exposing  themselves 
to  its  penal  consequences.  As  regards  the  prisoner, 
he  has  justly  forfeited  the  right  to  liberty,  by  em- 
ploying it  in  aggression  on  the  rights  of  others. 

As  regards  acts  not  in  themselves  wrong,  the 
freedom  of  the  individual  is  rightfully  restrained, 
when  it  would  interfere  with  the  health,  comfort,  or 
lawful  pui  suits  of  his  neighbors.  Thus  no  man  has 
the  right,  either  legal  or  moral,  to  establish,  in  an  in- 
habited vicinage,  a  trade  or  manufacture  which  con- 
fessedly poisons  the  air  or  the  water  in  his  neighbor- 
hood  ;  nor  has  one  a  moral  right  (even  if  there  are 
technical  difficulties  in  the  way  of  declaring  his  call- 
ing a  nuisance),  to  annoy  his  neighbors  by  an  avoo^ 


72  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

tion  grossly  offensive  or  intolerably  noisy.  It  is  on 
this  ground  alone  that  legislation  with  reference  to 
the  Lord's  day  can  be  justified.  Christians  have  no 
right  to  impose  upon  Jews,  Pagans,  or  infidels,  entire 
cessation  of  labor,  business,  or  recreation  on  Sunday, 
and  the  attempt  at  coercive  measures  of  this  kind  can 
only  react  to  the  damage  of  the  cause  in  which  they 
are  instituted.  But  if  the  majority  of  the  people  be- 
lieve it  their  duty  to  observe  the  first  day  of  the  week 
as  a  day  of  rest  and  devotion,  they  have  a  right  to 
be  protected  in  its  observance  by  the  suppression  of 
such  kinds,  degrees,  and  displays  of  labor  and  recrea- 
tion as  would  essentially  interfere  with  their  employ- 
ment of  the  day  for  its  sacred  uses. 

2.  The  right  to  property  is  an  inevitable  corollary 
from  the  right  to  liberty  ;  for  this  implies  freedom  to 
labor  at  one's  will,  and  to  what  purpose  can  a  man 
labor,  unless  he  can  make  the  fruit  of  his  labor  his 
own  ?  All  property,  except  land,  has  been  created 
by  labor.  Except  where  slavery  is  legahzed,  it  is  ad- 
mitted that  the  laborer  owns  the  value  he  creates. 
If  it  be  an  article  made  or  produced  wholly  by  him- 
self, it  is  his  to  keep,  to  use,  to  give,  or  to  sell.  If 
his  labor  be  bestowed  on  materials  not  his  own,  or  if 
he  be  one  of  a  body  of  workmen,  he  is  entitled  to  a 
%ir  equivalent  for  the  labor  he  contributes. 

Property  in  land,  no  doubt,  originated  in  labor. 
A  man  was  deemed  the  proprietor  of  so  much  ground 
as  he  tilled.  In  a  sparse  population  there  could  have 
been  no  danger  of  mutual  interference  ;  and  in  every 


RIGHT  OF  PROPERTY.  73 

country,  governments  must  have  been  instituted  be- 
fore there  was  a  sufficiently  close  occupation  of  the 
soil  to  occasion  collisions  and  conflicts  among  the  oc- 
cupants. The  governments  of  the  early  ages,  in  gen- 
eral, confirmed  the  titles  founded  in  productive  occu- 
pancy, and  treated  the  unoccupied  land  as  the  prop- 
erty of  the  state,  either  to  be  held  in  common,  to  be 
ceded  to  individual  owners  in  reward  of  loyalty  or 
services,  or  to  be  sold  on  the  public  account. 

It  is  manifest  that  the  security  of  property  ia 
essential  to  civilization  and  progress.  Men  would 
labor  only  for  the  needs  of  the  day,  if  they  could  not 
retain  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  labor ;  nor  would 
they  be  at  pains  to  invent  or  actualize  industrial  im- 
provements of  any  kind,  if  they  had  no  permanent 
interest  in  the  results  of  such  improvements.  Then, 
too,  if  there  were  no  protection  for  property,  there 
could  be  no  accumulation  of  capital,  and  without  cap- 
ital there  could  be  no  enterprise,  no  combined  indus- 
tnes,  no  expenditure  in  faith  of  a  remote,  yet  certain 
profit.  Nor  yet  can  the  ends  of  a  progressive  civili- 
zation be  answered  by  a  community  of  goods  and 
gains.  Wherever  this  experiment  has  been  tried,  it 
has  been  attended  by  a  decline  of  industrial  en- 
3rgy  and  capacity ;  and  where  there  has  not  been  ab- 
solute failure,  there  have  been  apathy,  stupidity,  and 
3  decreasing  standard  of  intelligence.  In  fine,  there 
is  in  man's  bodily  and  mental  powers  a  certain  vis 
inertice,  which  can  be  efficiently  aroused  only  by  the 
stimulus  of  personal  interest  in  the  results  of  indus- 
try, ingenuity,  and  prudence. 


74  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  right  of  property  implies  the  right  of  the 
owner,  while  he  lives,  to  hold,  enjoy,  or  dispose  of 
his  possessions  in  such  way  as  may  please  him.  But 
his  ownership  necessarily  ceases  at  death ;  and  what 
was  his  becomes  rightfully  the  property  of  the  public. 
Yet  in  all  civihzed  countries,  it  has  been  deemed 
fitting  that  the  owner  should  have  the  Uberty  —  with 
certain  restrictions  —  of  dictating  the  disposal  of  his 
property  after  his  death,  and  also  that,  unless  alien- 
ated by  his  will  (and  in  some  countries  his  will  not- 
withstanding), his  property  should  pass  to  his  family 
or  his  nearest  kindred.  It  is  believed  that  it  would 
discourage  industry  and  enfeeble  enterprise  were 
their  earnings  to  be  treated  as  public  property  on  the 
death  of  the  owner;  and  that,  on  the  other  hand, 
men  are  most  surely  trained  to  and  preserved  in 
habits  of  diligence  and  thrift,  either  by  the  power  of 
directing  the  disposal  of  their  property  after  death, 
or  by  the  certainty  that  they  can  thereby  benefit 
those  whom  they  hold  in  the  dearest  regard.  Laws 
with  reference  to  wills  and  to  the  succession  of 
estates  are  not,  then,  limitations  of  the  rights  of  pri- 
vate property,  but  a  directory  as  to  what  is  deemed 
the  best  mode  of  disposing  of  such  property  as  from 
time  to  time  accrues  to  the  public. 

The  law  limits  the  right  of  property  by  appro- 
priating to  public  usl'S  such  portions  of  it  as  are 
needed  for  the  maintenance,  convenience,  and  well- 
being  of  the  body  politic.  This  is  done,  in  the  first 
place,  by  taxation,  which  —  in  order   to  be  just  — 


HIGUT  OF  PROPERTY  LIMITED.  75 

must  be  equitable  in  its  mode  of  assessment,  and  not 
excessive  in  amount.  As  to  the  modes  of  assessment, 
it  is  obrious  that  a  system  which  lightens  the  bur- 
den upon  the  rich,  and  thus  presses  the  more  heavily 
on  the  poor  (as  would  be  the  case  were  a  revenue 
raised  on  the  necessaries  of  life,  while  luxuries  were 
left  free),  cannot  be  justified.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
may  be  maintained  that  the  rate  of  taxation  might 
fairly  increase  with  the  amount  of  property  ;  for  a 
very  large  proportion  of  the  machinery  of  govern- 
ment is  designed  for  the  protection  of  property,  and 
the  more  property  an  individual  has,  the  less  capable 
is  he  of  protecting  his  various  interests  by  his  own 
personal  care,  and  the  more  is  he  in  need  of  well -de- 
vised and  faithfully  executed  laws.  Taxation  exces- 
sive in  amount  is  simply  legalized  theft.  Sinecures, 
supernumerary  oflfices,  needless  and  costly  formalities 
in  the  transaction  of  public  business,  journeys  and 
festivities  at  the  public  charge,  buildings  designed  for 
ostentation  rather  than  for  use,  have  been  so  long  tol- 
erated in  the  municipal,  state,  and  national  adminis- 
trations, that  they  may  seem  inseparable  from  our 
system  of  government ;  but  they  imply  gross  dishon- 
esty on  the  pni-t  of  large  numbers  of  our  public  ser- 
vants, and  guilty  complicity  in  it  on  the  part  of  many 
more.  Under  a  system  of  direct  taxation,  assess- 
ments can  be  more  equitably  made,  and  their  expen- 
diture will  be  more  carefully  watched,  than  in  the  case 
of  indirect  taxation  ;  while  the  latter  method  is  more 
likely  to  find  favor  with  those  who  hold  or  seek  pub- 


76  MORAL    PlllLOlSOPHY. 

lie  office,  as  encouraging  a  larger  freedom  of  expen- 
diture, and  supporting  a  larger  number  of  needless 
functionaries  at  the  public  cost. 

The  law,  also,  authorizes  the  appropriation  ot 
specific  portions  of  property  to  public  uses,  as 
for  streets,  roads,  aqueducts,  and  public  grounds,  and 
even  in  aid  of  private  enterprises  in  which  the  com- 
munity has  a  beneficial  interest,  as  of  canals,  bridges, 
and  railways.  This  is  necessary,  and  therefore  right. 
It  is  obvious  that,  but  for  this,  the  most  essential 
facihties  and  improvements  might  be  prevented,  or 
burdened  with  unreasonable  costs,  by  the  obstinacy  or 
cupidity  of  individuals.  The  conditions  under  which 
such  use  of  private  property  is  justified  are,  that  the 
improvement  proposed  be  for  the  general  good,  that  a 
fair  compensation  be  given  for  the  property  taken, 
and  that  as  to  both  these  points,  in  case  of  a  differ- 
ence of  opinion,  the  ultimate  appeal  shall  be  to  an 
impartial  tribunal  or  arbitration. 

3.  The  right  to  reputation.  Every  man  has  a 
right  to  the  reputation  he  deserves,  and  is  under 
obligation  to  respect  that  right  in  every  other  man. 
This  obhgation  is  violated,  not  only  by  the  fabrica- 
tion of  slander,  but  equally  by  its  repetition,  unless 
the  person  who  repeats  it  knows  it  to  be  true,  and 
also  by  silence  and  seeming  acquiescence  in  an  in- 
jui-ious  report,  if  one  knows  or  believes  it  to  be  false. 
But  has  a  man  a  right  to  a  better  reputation  than  he 
deserves  ?     Certainly  not,  in  a  moral  point  of  view  ; 


RIGHT  TO  REPUTATION.  77 

and  if  men  could  be  generally  known  to  be  what  they 
are,  few  would  fail  to  become  what  they  would  wish 
to  seem.  Yet  the  law  admits  the  truth  of  a  slander- 
ous charge  in  justification  of  the  slanderer,  only  when 
it  can  be  shown  that  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  is  for 
the  public  benefit.  There  are  good  reasons  for  this 
attitude  of  the  law,  without  reference  to  any  supposed 
rights  of  the  justly  accused  party.  There  is,  in  many 
instances,  room  for  a  reasonable  doubt  as  to  evil  re- 
ports that  seem  authentic,  and  in  many  more  in- 
stances there  may  be  extenuating  circumstances  which 
form  a  part  of  the  case,  though  almost  never,  of  the 
report.  Then,  too,  the  family  and  kindred  of  the 
person  defamed  may  incur,  through  true,  yet  useless 
reports  to  his  discredit,  shame,  annoyance,  and  dam- 
age, which  they  do  not  merit.  Evil  reports,  also, 
even  if  true,  disturb  the  peace  of  the  community,  and 
often  provoke  violent  retaliation.  The  wanton  cir- 
culation of  them,  therefore,  if  a  luxury  to  him  who 
gives  them  currency,  is  a  luxury  indulged  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  public,  and  he  ought  to  be  held  liable 
for  all  that  it  may  cost.  Finally,  and  above  all,  th(3 
slanderer  becomes  a  nuisance  to  the  community,  not 
only  by  his  reports  of  real  or  imagined  wrong  and 
evil,  but  by  the  degradation  of  his  own  character, 
which  can  hardly  remain  above  the  level  of  his  social 
Intercourse. 

By  the  law,  defamation  and  libel  are,  very  justly, 
Liable  both  to  criminal  prosecution,  as  offences  against 


78  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

the  public,  and  to  action  for  damages  by  civil  pro- 
cess, on  the  obvious  ground  that  the  injury  of  a 
man's  character  tends  to  impair  his  success  in  busi- 
ness, his  pecuniary  credit,  and  his  comfortable  enjoy- 
ment of  his  property. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MOTIVE,  PASSION,  AND  HABIT. 

^HE  appetites,  desires,  and  affections  are,  as  has 
been  said,  the  proximate  motives  of  action. 
The  perception  of  expediency  and  the  sense  of  right 
act,  not  independently  of  these  motives,  but  upon 
them  and  through  them,  checking  some,  stimulating 
others.  Thus  they,  both,  restrain  the  appetites,  the 
former,  so  far  as  prudence  requires ;  the  latter,  in  sub- 
serviency to  the  more  noble  elements  of  character. 
The  former  directs  the  desires  toward  worthy,  but 
earthly  objects  ;  the  latter  works  most  eflBciently 
through  the  benevolent  affections,  as  exercised  toward 
God  and  man. 

Exterior  motives  are  of  a  secondary  order,  acting 
not  directly  upon  the  will,  but  influencing  it  indirectly, 
through  the  springs  of  action,  or  through  the  prin- 
ciples which  direct  and  govern  them. 

The  action  of  exterior  motives  takes  place  in 
three  different  ways.  1.  When  they  are  in  harmony 
with  any  predominant  appetite,  desire,  or  affection, 
they  at  once  intensify  it,  and  prompt  acts  by  which 
it  may  be  gratified.  Thus,  for  instance,  a  sumj)- 
tuously  spread  table  gives  the  epicure  a  keener  a}>- 
petite,  and  invites  him  to  its  free  indulgence.     The 


80  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

opportunity  of  a  potentially  lucrative,  though  hazard- 
ous investment,  excites  the  cupidity  of  the  man  who 
prizes  money  above  all  things  else,  and  tempts  him  to 
incur  the  doubtful  risk.  The  presence  of  the  objecl 
of  love  or  hatred  adds  strength  to  the  affection,  and 
induces  expressions  or  acts  of  kindness  or  malevolence, 
2.  An  exterior  motive  opposed  to  the  predominant 
spring  of  action  often  starts  that  spring  into  vigor- 
ous and  decisive  activity,  and  makes  it  thenceforth 
stronger  and  more  imperative.  It  is  thus  that  remon- 
strances, obstacles,  and  interposing  difficulties  not  in- 
frequently render  sensual  passion  more  rabid ;  while 
temptation,  by  the  acts  of  resistance  which  it  elicits, 
nourishes  the  virtue  it  assails.  3.  An  exterior  motive 
may  have  a  sufficient  stress  and  cogency  to  call  forth 
into  energetic  action  some  appetite,  desire,  or  affection 
previously  dormant  or  feeble,  thus  to  repress  the 
activity  of  those  which  before  held  sway,  and  so  to 
produce  a  fundamental  change  in  the  character.  In 
this  way  the  sudden  presentation  of  vice,  in  attractive 
forms,  may  give  paramount  sway  to  passions  which 
had  previously  shown  no  signs  of  mastery ;  and,  in 
like  manner,  a  signal  experience  of  peril,  calamity, 
deliverance,  or  unexpected  joy  may  call  forth  the 
religious  affections,  and  invest  them  with  enduring 
supremacy  over  a  soul  previously  surrendered  to  appe- 
tite, inferior  desires,  or  meaner  loves. 

An  undue  influence  in  the  formation  or  change 
of  character  is  often  ascribed  to  exterior  motives. 
They  are  oftener  the  consequence  than  the  cause  of 


CHRISTIAN  MOTIVES.  81 

character.  Men,  in  general,  exercise  more  power  over 
their  surroundings,  than  their  surroundings  over  them. 
A  very  large  proportion  of  the  circumstances  which 
seem  to  have  a  decisive  influence  upon  us,  are  of  our 
own  choice,  and  we  might  —  had  we  so  willed  —  have 
chosen  their  opposites.  A  virtuous  person  seldom 
nnds  it  necessary  to  breathe  a  vicious  atmosphere.  A 
wilhngness  to  be  tempted  is  commonly  the  antecedent 
condition  to  one's  being  led  into  temptation.  Sym- 
pathy, example,  and  social  influences  are  second  in 
their  power,  whether  for  good  or  for  evil,  to  no  other 
class  of  exterior  motives  ;  and  there  are  few  who  can- 
not choose  their  own  society,  and  who  do  not  choose 
it  in  accordance  with  their  elective  affinities.  It  is 
true,  indeed,  that  the  choice  of  companions  of  doubtful 
virtue  is  often  the  first  outward  sign  of  vicious  pro- 
clivities ;  while  a  tenacious  adherence  to  the  society 
of  the  most  worthy  not  infrequently  precedes  any 
very  conspicuous  development  of  personal  excellence  ; 
but  in  either  case  the  choice  of  friends  indicates  the 
predominant  springs  of  action,  and  the  direction  in 
which  the  character  has  begun  to  grow.  So  far  then 
is  man  from  being  under  the  irresistible  control  of 
motives  from  without,  that  these  motives  are  in  great 
part  the  results  and  the  tokens  of  his  own  voluntary 
agency. 

Christianity  justly  claims  preeminence,  not  only 
as  a  source  of  knowledge  as  to  the  right,  but  equally 
as  presenting  the  most  influential  and  persistent 
motives  t,o  right  conduct.     These  motives  we  have  in 

^1\5 


8i^  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

its  endearing  and  winning  manifestation  of  the  Di- 
vine fatherhood  by  Jesus  Christ ;  in  his  own  sacri- 
fice, death,  and  undying  love  for  man ;  in  the  assur- 
ance of  forgiveness  for  past  wrongs  and  omissions, 
without  which  there  could  be  little  courage  for  future 
well-doing ;  in  the  promise  of  Divine  aid  in  every 
right  purpose  and  worthy  endeavor  ;  in  the  certainty 
of  a  righteous  retribution  in  the  life  to  come  ;  and  in 
institutions  and  observances  designed  and  adapted  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  salient  facts,  and  to 
renew  at  frequent  intervals  the  recognition  of  the 
essential  truths,  which  give  the  religion  its  name  and 
character.  The  desires  and  affections,  stimulated  and 
directed  by  these  motives,  are  incapable  of  being  per- 
verted to  evil,  while  desires  with  lower  aims  and 
affections  for  inferior  objects  are  always  liable  to  be 
thus  perverted.  These  religious  motives,  too,  resting 
on  the  Infinite  and  the  Eternal,  are  of  inexhaustible 
power  ;  if  felt  at  all,  they  must  of  necessity  be  felt 
more  strongly  than  all  other  motives  ;  and  they  can- 
not fail  to  be  adequate  to  any  stress  of  need,  tempta- 
tion, or  trial. 

Passion  imphes  a  passive  state,  —  a  condition  in 
which  the  will  }aelds  without  resistance  to  some 
irkminant  appetite,  desire,  or  affection,  under  whose 
imperious  reign  reason  is  silenced,  considerations  ol 
expediency  and  of  right  suppressed,  and  exterior 
counteracting  motives  neutralized.  It  resembles  in- 
sarity  in  the  de^ee  in  which  the  actions  induced   by 


PASSION  83 

it  are  the  results  of  unreasoning  impulse,  and  in  tlie 
unreal  and  distorted  views  which  it  presents  of  per- 
sons, objects,  and  events.  It  differs  from  insanity, 
mainly  in  its  being  a  seK-induced  madness,  for  which, 
as  for  drunkenness,  the  sufferer  is  morally  account- 
able, and  in  yielding  to  which,  as  in  drunkenness,  he^ 
bj  suffering  his  will  to  pass  beyond  the  control  of 
reason,  makes  himself  responsible,  both  legally  and 
morally,  for  whatever  crimes  or  wrongs  he  commits  in 
this  state  of  mental  alienation. 

There  is  no  appetite,  desire,  or  afifeotion  which 
may  not  become  a  passion,  and  there  is  no  passion 
which  does  not  impair  the  sense  of  right,  and  inter- 
fere with  the  discharge  of  dntj.  The  appetites,  the 
lower  desires,  the  malevolent  affections,  and,  not 
infrequently,  love,  when  they  become  passions,  have 
their  issues  in  vice  and  crime.  The  nobler  desires  and 
affections  when  made  passions,  may  not  lead  to  pos- 
itive evil,  but  can  hardly  fail  to  derange  the  fitting 
order  of  life,  and  to  result  in  the  dereliction  of  some  of 
its  essential  duties.  Thus,  the  passion  for  knowledge 
may  render  one  indifferent  to  his  social  and  religious 
obligations.  Philanthropy,  when  a  passion,  overlooks 
nearer  for  more  remote  claims  of  duty,  and  is  very 
prone  to  omit  self-discipline  and  seK-culture  in  its  zeal 
for  world-embracing  charities.  Even  the  religious 
affections,  when  they  assume  the  character  of  pas- 
sions, either,  on  the  one  hand,  are  kindled  into  wild 
fanaticism,  or,  on  the  other,  lapse  into  a  self-absorbed 
q'lietism,  which  forgets  outside  duties  in  the  luxury  of 


84  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

devout  contemplation  ;  and  though  eithei  of  these  is 
to  be  immeasurably  preferred  to  indiifereiice,  they 
both  are  as  unmeasurably  inferior  to  that  piety, 
equally  fervent  and  rational,  which  neglects  neither 
man  for  God,  nor  God  for  man,  and  which  remains 
mindful  of  all  human  and  earthly  relations,  fitnesses, 
and  duties,  while  at  the  same  time  it  retains  its  hold 
of  faith,  hope,  and  habitual  communion,  on  the  higher 
life. 

Habit  also  involves  the  suspension  of  reason  and 
motive  in  the  performance  of  individual  acts ;  but  it 
differs  from  passion  in  that  its  acts  were  in  the  be^ 
ginning  prompted  by  reason  and  motive.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  plausibly  maintained  that  in  each  habitual  act 
there  is  a  virtual  remembrance  —  a  recollection  too 
transient  to  be  itself  remembered  —  of  the  reasoning 
or  motive  which  induced  the  first  act  of  the  series.  In 
some  cases  the  habitual  act  is  performed,  as  it  is  said, 
unconsciously,  certainly  with  a  consciousness  so  evan- 
escent as  to  leave  no  trace  of  itself.  In  other  cases  the 
act  is  performed  consciously,  but  as  by  a  felt  necessity, 
in  consequence  of  an  uneasy  sensation  —  analogous  to 
hunger  and  thirst  —  which  can  be  allayed  in  this  way 
only.  Under  this  last  head  we  may  class,  in  the  first 
place,  habits  of  criminal  indulgence,  including  the  in- 
dulgence of  morbid  and  depraved  appetite;  secondly, 
many  of  those  morally  indifferent  habits,  which  con- 
stitute a  large  portion  of  a  regular  and  systematic  life , 
and  thirdly,  habits  of  virtuous  conduct,  of  industry, 
of  ])unctualit_y,  of  charity. 


BEAEFlCtJNT  AGENCY  OF    HABIT.  85 

Habit  bears  a  most  momentous  part  in  the  for- 
mation and  growth  of  character,  whether  for  evil  or 
for  good.  It  is  in  the  easy  and  rapid  formation  of 
habit  that  hes  the  imminent  peril  of  single  acts  of 
vicious  indulgence.  The  first  act  is  performed  with 
the  determination  that  it  shall  be  the  last  of  its  kind. 
But  of  all  examples  one's  own  is  that  which  he  is 
most  prone  to  follow,  and  of  all  bad  examples  one's 
own  is  the  most  dangerous.  The  precedent  once 
established,  there  is  the  strongest  temptation  to  repeat 
it,  still  with  a  conscious  power  of  self-control,  and 
with  the  resolution  to  limit  the  degree  and  to  arrest 
the  course  of  indulgence,  so  as  to  evade  the  ultimate 
disgrace  and  ruin  to  which  it  tends.  But  before  the 
pre-determined  limit  is  reached,  the  indulgence  has 
become  a  habit ;  its  suspension  is  painful ;  its  contin- 
uance or  renewal  seems  essential  to  comfortable  exist- 
ence ;  and  even  in  those  ultimate  stages  when  its  very- 
pleasure  has  lapsed  into  satiety,  and  then  into  wretch- 
edness, its  discontinuance  threatens  still  greater 
wretchedness,  because  the  craving  is  even  more  in- 
tense when  the  enjoyment  has  ceased. 

The  beneficent  agency  of  habit  no  less  deserves 
emphatic  notice.  Its  office  in  practical  morality  is 
analogous  to  that  of  labor-saving  inventions  in  the 
various  departments  of  industry.  A  machine  by 
rt^hich  ten  men  can  do  the  work  that  has  been  done 
by  tliirty,  disengages  the  twenty  for  new  modes  of 
productive  labor,  and  thus  augments  the  prodm-ts  of 
industry  and  the  comfort  of  the  community.     A  good 


86  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

habit  is  a  labor-saving  instrument.  The  cultivating 
of  any  specific  virtue  to  such  a  degree  that  it  shall 
become  an  inseparable  and  enduring  element  of  the 
character  demands,  at  the  outset,  vigilance,  self-disci- 
pline, and,  not  infrequently,  strenuous  effort.  But 
when  the  exercise  of  that  virtue  has  become  habitual, 
and  therefore  natural,  easy,  and  essential  to  one's  con- 
scious well  being,  it  ceases  to  task  the  energies  ;  it  no 
longer  requires  constant  watchfulness ;  its  occasions 
are  met  spontaneously  by  the  appropriate  dispositions 
and  acts.  The  powers  which  have  been  employed  in 
its  culture  are  thus  set  free  for  the  acquisition  of  yet 
other  virtues,  and  the  formation  of  other  good  habits. 
Herein  hes  the  secret  of  progressive  goodness,  of  an 
ever  nearer  approach  to  a  perfect  standard  of  char- 
acter. The  primal  virtues  are  first  made  habits  of 
the  unceasing  consciousness  and  of  the  daily  life,  and 
the  moral  power  no  longer  needed  for  these  is  then 
employed  in  the  cultivation  of  the  finer  traits  of  su- 
perior excellence,  —  the  shaping  of  the  delicate  lines, 
roundings,  and  proportions,  which  constitute  "  the 
beauty  of  holiness,"  the  symmetry  and  grace  of  char 
acter  that  win  not  only  abounding  respect  and  confi- 
dence, but  universal  admiration  and  love. 

"What  has  been  said  of  habit,  is  true  not  only  as  to 
outward  acts,  but  equally  as  to  wonted  directions  and 
currents  of  thought,  study,  reflection,  and  reverie. 
Tt  is  mainly  through  successive  stages  of  habit  that 
the  mind  grows  in  its  power  of  application,  research, 
and  invention.     It  is  thus  that  the  spirit  of  devotion 


HABITS   OF  THOUGHT.  87 

is  trained  to  ever  clearer  realization  of  sacred  truth  and 
a  more  fervent  love  and  piety.  It  is  thus  that  minds 
of  good  native  capacity  lose  their  apprehensive  facul- 
ties and  their  working  power;  and  thus,  also,  that 
moral  corruption  often,  no  doubt,  takes  place  before 
the  evil  desires  cherished  within  find  the  opportunity 
of  actualizing  themselves  in  a  depraved  life. 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

VIRTUES,  AND  THE  VIRTUES. 

^HE  term  virtue  is  employed  in  various  senses, 
which,  though  they  cover  a  wide  range,  are  yet 
very  closely  allied  to  one  another,  and  to  the  initial 
conception  in  which  they  all  have  birth.  Its  primitive 
signification,  as  its  structure  ^  indicates,  is  manliness. 
Now  what  preeminently  distinguishes,  not  so  much 
the  human  race  from  the  lower  animals,  as  the  full- 
grown  and  strong  man  from  the  feebler  members  of 
liis  own  race,  is  the  power  of  resolute,  strenuous,  per- 
severing conflict  and  resistance.  It  is  the  pait  of 
a  man  worthy  of  the  name  to  maintain  his  own  posi- 
tion, to  hold  his  ground  against  all  invaders,  to  show 
a  firm  front  against  all  hostile  force,  and  to  prefer 
death  to  conquest.  All  this  is  implied  in  the  Greek 
and  Roman  idea  of  virtue,  and  is  included  in  the  Latin 
virtus,  when  it  is  used  with  reference  to  military 
transactions,  so  that  its  earliest  meaning  was,  simply, 

1  Latin,  virtus,  from  wV,  which  denotes  not,  like  homo,  simply  a  human 
being,  but  a  man  endowed  with  all  appropriate  manly  attributes,  and  comes 
from  the  same  root  with  vis,  strength.  The  Greek  synonyme  of  virtus, 
ilpenj,  is  derived  from  "adtj?,  the  god  of  war,  who  in  the  heroic  days  of 
Greece  was  the  ideal  man,  the  standard  of  human  excellence,  and  whose 
name  some  lexicographers  regard  —  as  it  seems  to  me,  somewhat  fanci- 
fully —  as  allied  through  its  root  to  ai/>jp,  which  bears  about  the  same  reUh 
lion  to  acdpcoTTo?  that  vir  bears  to  homo. 


VIRTUE.  89 

military  prowess.  But  with  tlie  growth  of  ethical 
philosophy,  and  especially  with  the  cultivation  by  the 
Stoics  of  the  sterner  and  hardier  traits  of  moral  ex- 
ceUence,  men  learned  that  there  was  open  to  them  a 
more  perilous  battle-ground,  a  severer  conllict,  and  a 
moro  glorious  victory,  than  in  mere  physical  warfare, 
^-  that  there  was  a  higher  type  of  manliness  in  self - 
conquest,  in  the  resistance  and  subdual  of  appetite 
and  passion,  in  the  maintenance  of  integrity  and 
purity  under  intense  temptation  and  amidst  vicious 
surroundings,  than  in  the  proudest  achievements  of 
military  valour.  Virtue  thus  came  to  mean,  not 
moral  goodness  in  itself  considered,  but  goodness  mil- 
itant and  triumphant.^ 

But  words  which  have  a  complex  signification 
always  tend  to  slough  off  a  part  of  their  meaning  ; 
and,  especially,  words  that  denote  a  state  or  property, 
together  with  its  mode  of  growth  or  of  manifestation, 
are  prone  to  drop  the  latter,  even  though  it  may  have 
given  them  root  and  form.     Thus  the  term  virtue  is 


1  In  the  languages  which  have  inherited  or  adopted  the  Latin  virtux, 
It  retains  its  original  signification,  with  one  striking  exception,  which  yet 
is  perhaps  an  exception  in  appearance  rather  than  in  reality.  In  the  Ita- 
lian, virtu  is  employed  to  signify  taste,  and  virtuoso,  which  may  denote  a 
virtuous  man,  oftener  means  a  collector  of  objects  of  taste.  We  have  here 
an  historical  landmark.  There  was  a  period  when,  under  civil  despotism, 
tlie  old  Roman  manhood  had  entirely  died  out  on  its  native  soil,  while 
ecclesiastical  corruption  rendered  the  nobler  idea  of  Christian  manhood 
effete;  and  then  the  highest  type  of  manhood  that  remained  was  the  cul- 
ture of  those  refined  sensibilities,  those  ornamental  arts,  and  that  keen 
sense  of  the  beautiful,  in  which  Italy  as  far  surpassed  other  lands,  as  it  waa 
for  centuriea  inferior  to  them  in  physical  braverv  and  in  moral  rectitude 


90  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

often  used  to  denote  the  qualities  that  constitute 
human  excellence,  without  direct  reference  to  the  con- 
flict with  evil,  whence  it  gets  its  name,  and  in  which 
those  qualities  have  their  surest  growth  and  most  con- 
spicuous manifestation.  Thei-e  is  still,  however,  a 
tacit  reference  to  temptation  and  conflict  in  our  use  of 
the  term.  Though  we  employ  it  to  denote  good- 
ness that  has  stood  no  very  severe  test,  we  use  it 
only  where  such  a  test  may  be  regarded  as  possible. 
Though  we  call  a  man  virtuous^who  lias  been  shielded 
from  all  corrupt  examples  and  influences,  and  has  had 
no  inducements  to  be  otherwise  than  good,  we  do  not 
apply  the  epithet  to  the  little  child  who  cannot  by 
any  possibility  have  been  exposed  to  temptation. 
Nor  yet  would  we  apply  it  to  the  perfect  purity  and 
holiness  of  the  Supreme  Being,  who  "  cannot  be 
tempted  with  evil." 

Virtue  then,  in  its  more  usual  sense  at  the  present 
tim«,  denotes  conduct  in  accordance  "with  the  right, 
or  with  the  fitness  of  things,  on  the  part  of  one  who  has 
the  power  to  do  otherwise.  But  in  this  sense  there 
are  few,  if  any,  perfectly  virtuous  men.  There  are, 
perhaps,  none  who  are  equally  sensitive  to  all  that  the 
right  requires,  and  it  is  often  the  deficiencies  of  a  char- 
acter that  give  it  its  reputation  for  distinguished  excel- 
lence in  some  one  form  of  virtue,  the  vigilance,  self 
discipline,  and  effort  which  might  have  sustained  the 
character  in  a  well-balanced  mediocrity  being  so  con- 
centrated upon  some  single  department  of  duty  as  to 
excite  liio^h  admiiation  and  extended  praise.     There 


VIRTUE  AND  PIETY.  91 

may  be  a  deficient  sensitiveness  to  some  classes  of  obli- 
gations, while  yet  there  is  no  willing  or  conscious  viola- 
tion  of  the  ri^ht,  and  in  such  caseo  the  character  must 
be  regarded  as  virtuous.  But  if  in  any  one  depart- 
ment of  duty  a  person  is  consciously  false  to  his  sense 
oi  rignt,  even  though  in  all  other  respects  he  conforms 
to  the  right,  he  cannot  be  deemed  virtuous,  nor  can 
there  be  any  good  ground  for  assurance  that  he  may 
not,  with  sufficient  inducement,  violate  the  very  obli- 
gations which  he  now  holds  in  the  most  faithful  re- 
gard. This  is  what  is  meant  by  that  saying  of  St. 
James,  "  Whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole  law,  and 
yet  offend  in  one  point,  is  guilty  of  all," — not  that 
he  who  commits  a  single  offence  through  inadvertency 
or  sudden  temptation,  is  thus  guilty;  but  he  who 
willingly  and  deliberately  violates  the  right  as  to 
matters  in  which  he  is  the  most  strongly  tempted  to 
wrong  and  evil,  shows  an  indifference  to  the  right 
which  will  lead  him  to  observe  it  only  so  long  and  so 
far  as  he  finds  it  convenient  and  easy  so  to  do. 

Here  we  are  naturally  led  to  inquire  whether  there  is 
any  essential  connection  between  virtue  and  piety, 
—  between  the  faithful  discharge  of  the  common 
duties  of  life  and  loving  loyalty  toward  the  Supreme 
Being.  On  this  subject  extreme  opinions  have  been 
held,  sceptics  and  unbelievers,  on  the  one  side.  Chris- 
tians with  a  leaven  of  antinomianism  on  the  other, 
maintaining  the  entire  independence  of  virtue  oi> 
piety  ;  while  Christians  of  the  opposite  tendency  have 
represented  them,  in  spite  of  ample  evidence  to  the 


V>2  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

contrary,  as  inseparable.  We  shall  find,  on  examina- 
tion, that  they  are  separable  and  independent,  yet 
auxiliary  each  to  the  other.  Virtue  is  conduct  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  right,  and  we  have  seen  that  right 
and  wrong,  as  moral  distinctions,  depend  not  on  the 
Divine  nature,  will  or  law,^  but  on  the  inherent, 
necessary  conditions  of  being.  The  atheist  cannot 
escape  or  disown  them.  Whatever  exists  —  no  mat- 
ter how  it  came  into  being  —  must  needs  have  its  due 
place,  affinities,  adaptations,  and  uses.  An  intelhgent 
dweller  among  the  things  that  are,  cannot  but  know 
something  of  their  fitnesses  and  harmonies,  and  so  far 
as  he  acts  upon  them  cannot  but  feel  the  obhgation 
to  recognize  their  fitnesses,  and  thus  to  create  or  re- 
store their  harmonies.  Even  to  the  atheist,  vice  is  a 
violation  of  fitnesses  which  he  knows  or  may  know. 
It  is  opposed  to  his  conscientious  judgment.  He  has 
with  regard  to  it  an  inevitable  sense  of  wrong.  We 
can,  therefore,  conceive  of  an  atheist's  being  rigidly 
virtuous,  and  that  on  principle.  Though  among  the 
ancient  Stoics  there  were  some  emmently  devout  men, 
there  were  others,  men  of  impregnable  virtue,  whose 

1  It  is  obviously  on  this  ground  alone  th.b.t  we  can  affirm  moral  attributes 
of  the  Supreme  Being.  When  we  say  that  he  is  perfectly  just,  pure,  holy, 
beneficent,  we  recognize  a  standard  of  judgment  logically  independent  of 
his  nature.  We  mean  that  the  fitness  which  the  human  conscience  r<?c;Dif 
iiizes  as  its  only  standard  of  right,  is  the  law  which  he  has  elected  for  ais 
own  admmistration  of  the  universe.  Could  we  conceive  of  omnipotence 
not  lecognizing  this  law,  the  decrees  and  acts  of  such  a  being  would  not  bo 
necessarily  right.  Omnipotence  cannot  make  that  which  is  fitting  wrong, 
or  that  which  is  unfitting  right.  God's  decrees  and  acts  are  not  right  be- 
cause thev  are  his,  but  his  because  they  are  right. 


VIRTUE  AND  PIETY.  93 

theology  was  too  vague  and  meagre  to  furnish  either 
ground  or  nourishment  for  piety.  While,  therefore, 
in  the  mutual  and  reciprocal  fitnesses  that  pervade 
the  universe  we  find  demonstrative  evidence  of  tlie 
being,  unity,  and  moral  perfectness  of  the  Creator,  wo 
are  constrained  to  acknowledge  the  possibility  of  these 
fitnesses  being  recognized  in  the  conduct  of  Hfe  by 
those  who  do  not  follow  them  out  to  the  great  truths 
of  theology  to  which  they  point  and  lead. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  where  there  is  a  clear 
knowledge  of,  or  an  undo ub ting  belief  in  the  being 
and  providence  of  God,  and  especially  for  persons 
who  receive  Christianity  as  a  revelation  of  the  truth, 
though,  as  an  affection,  piety  is  independent  of  virtue, 
the  duties  of  piety  are  an  essential  part  of  virtue. 
If  God  is,  we  stand  in  definable  relations  to  Him,  and 
those  relations  are  made  definite  through  Christianity. 
Those  relations  have  their  fitnesses,  and  we  see  not 
how  he  can  be  a  thoroughly  virtuous  man,  who,  dis- 
cerning these  fitnesses  with  the  understanding,  fails 
to  recognize  them  in  conduct.  Conscience  can  take 
cognizance  only  of  the  fitnesses  which  the  individual 
man  knows  or  believes ;  but  it  does  take  cognizance 
of  all  the  fitnesses  which  he  knows  or  believes.  Virtue 
may  coexist  with  a  very  low  standard  of  emotional 
piety ;  but  it  cannot  coexist,  in  one  who  believes  the 
truths  of  religion,  with  blasphemy,  irreverence,  or  the 
conscious  violation  or  neglect  of  religious  obligations. 
He  who  is  willingly  false  to  his  relations  with  the 
Supreme  Being,  needs  only  adequate  temptation   to 


94  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

make  him  false  to  his  human  relations,  and  to  the  fit- 
nesses of  his  daily  life.  Moreover,  while,  as  we  have 
said,  virtue  may  exist  where  there  is  but  little  emo- 
tional piety,  virtue  can  hardly  fail  to  cherish  pioty. 
Loyalty  of  conduct  deepens  loyalty  of  spirit ,  obedience 
nourishes  love  ;  he  who  faithfully  does  the  will  of  God 
can  hardly  fail  to  become  worshipful  and  devout ;  and 
while  men  are  more  frequently  led  by  emotional  piety 
to  virtue,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  with  many  the 
process  is  reversed,  and  virtue  leads  to  emotional 
piety.  Then  again,  we  have  seen  that  religion  sup- 
phes  the  most  efficient  of  all  motives  to  a  virtuous 
life,  —  motives  adequate  to  a  stress  of  temptation  and 
trial  which  suffices  to  overpower  and  neutralize  all 
inferior  motives. 

Virtue  is  one  and  indivisible  in  its  principle  and 
essence,  yet  in  its  external  manifestations  pre- 
senting widely  different  aspects,  and  eliciting  a 
corresponding  diversity  in  specific  traits  of  character. 
Thus,  though  intrinsic  fitness  be  equally  the  rule  of 
conduct  at  a  pleasure-party  and  by  a  pauper's  bed- 
side, the  conduct  of  the  virtuous  man  will  be  widely 
different  on  these  two  occasions  ;  and  not  only  so,  but 
with  the  same  purpose  of  fidelity  to  what  is  fitting  and 
right,  his  dispositions,  aims,  and  endeavors  on  these 
two  occasions  will  have  little  or  nothing  in  commui. 
except  the  one  pervading  purpose.  Hence  virtue  may 
under  Jitferent  forms  assume  various  names,  and  may 
thus  be  broken  up  into  separate  virtues.     These  are 


THE    VIRTUES.  % 

many  or  few,  according  as  we  distribute  in  smaller  or 
larger  groups  the  occasions  for  virtuous  conduct,  ol 
analyze  with  greater  or  less  minuteness  the  senti- 
ments and  dispositions  from  which  it  proceeds. 

The  cardinal  ^  virtues  are  the  A^w^e-virtues,  those 
on  which  the  character  hinges  or  turns,  those,  the  pos- 
session of  all  which,  would  constitute  a  virtuous  char- 
acter, while  the  absence  of  any  one  of  them  would 
justly  forfeit  for  a  man  the  epithet  virtuous.  There 
are  other  less  salient  and  essential  qualities  —  minor 
virtues  —  the  possession  of  which  adds  to  the  symme- 
try, beauty,  and  efficiency  of  the  character,  but  which 
one  may  lack,  and  yet  none  the  less  deserve  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  virtuous  man.  Thus,  justice  is  a  cardinal 
virtue  ;  gentleness,  one  of  the  lesser  rank. 

We  propose  to  adopt  as  a  division  of  the  vir- 
tues one  which  recognizes  four  cardinal  virtues,  cor- 
responding to  four  classes  under  which  may  be  com- 
prehended all  the  fitnesses  of  man's  condition  in  this 
world,  and  the  duties  proceeding  from  them  respect- 
ively .^  There  are  fitnesses  and  duties  appertaining, 
first,  to  one's  own  being,  nature,  capacities,  and  needs ; 
secondly,  to  his  relations  to  his  fellow-beings ;  thirdly, 
to  his  disposition  and  conduct  with  reference  to  ex- 
ternal objects  and  events  beyond  his  control  i  and 
foiu'thly,  to  his  arrangement,  disposal,  and  use  ol  ob- 
jects under  his  control.  It  is  difficult  to  find  names 
which  in  their  common  use  comprehend  severally  all 
the  contents  of  each  of  these  four  divisions  ;  but  yet 

*  From  cardo,  a  hinge. 

*  It  is  virtuallv  Cicero's  diviaion  in  the  De  Officiin. 


96  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

they  are  all  comprised  within  the  broadest  significance 
of  the  terms  Prudence,  Justice,  Fortitude,  and  Or- 
der. Thus  employed.  Prudence,  or  providence,  in- 
cludes all  the  duties  of  self-government  and  self-cul- 
ture; Justice  denotes  all  that  is  due  to  God  and  man, 
embracing  piety  and  benevolence  ;  Fortitude,  which 
is  but  a  synonyme  for  strength,  is  an  appropriate  gen- 
eral name  for  every  mode,  whether  of  defiance,  resist- 
ance, or  endurance,  in  which  man  shows  himself  su- 
perior to  his  inevitable  surroundings  ;  and  Order  is 
extended  to  all  subjects  in  which  the  question  of  duty 
is  a  question  of  time,  place,  or  measure. 

"We  can  conceive  of  no  right  feeling,  purpose, 
or  action,  which  does  not  come  under  one  of 
these  heads.  It  is  obvious,  too,  that  these  are  all 
cardinal  virtues,  not  one  of  which  could  be  wanting 
or  grossly  deficient  in  a  virtuous  man.  For,  in  the 
first  place,  he  who  omits  were  it  only  the  duties  of 
self-culture,  and  thus  leaves  himself  ignorant  of  what 
he  ought  to  know,  takes  upon  himseK  the  full  burden, 
blame,  and  penalty  of  whatever  wrong  he  may  com- 
mit in  consequence  of  needless  ignorance ;  secondly, 
he  who  is  willingly  unfaitliful  in  any  of  his  relations 
to  God  or  man,  cannot  by  any  possibility  be  worthy 
of  approbation  ;  nor,  thirdly,  can  he  be  so,  who  is  the 
slave,  not  the  master,  of  his  surroundings ;  while, 
fourthly,  fitnesses  of  time,  place,  and  measure  are  so 
essential  to  right-doing  that  the  violation  of  tbem 
renders  what  else  were  right,  wrong. 

Moreover,  each  of  these  four  virtues,  if  genuine 


THE   CARDINAL  VIRTUES.  97 

and  highly  developed,  implies  the  presence  of  all 
the  others.  1.  There  is  a  world  of  wisdom  in  th« 
question  asked  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  :  "  Have  all 
the  workers  of  iniquity  no  knowledge  ?"  There  is  in 
all  wrong-doing  either  ignorance,  or  temporary  hal- 
lucination or  blindness,  and  imprudence  is  but  igno- 
rance or  delusion  carried  into  action.  Did  we  see 
clearly  the  certaiu  bearings  and  consequences  of  ac- 
tions, we  should  need  no  stronger  dissuasive  from  all 
evil,  no  more  cogent  motive  to  every  form  of  virtue. 
2.  There  is  no  conceivable  duty  which  may  not  be 
brought  under  the  head  of  justice,  either  to  God  or 
to  man  ;  for  our  duties  to  ourselves  are  due  to  God 
who  has  ordained  them,  and  to  man  whom  we  are 
the  more  able  to  benefit,  the  more  diligent  we  are 
in  self-government  and  self -improvement.  3.  Our 
wrong-doing  of  every  kind  comes  from  our  yielding  to 
outward  things  instead  of  rising  above  them ;  and 
he  who  truly  lives  above  the  world,  can  hardly  fail  to 
do  all  that  is  right  and  good  in  it.  4.  Perfect  order 
—  the  doing  of  everything  in  the  right  time,  place, 
and  measure  —  would  imply  the  presence  of  all  the 
virtues,  and  would  include  all  their  work. 

With  this  explanation  we  shall  use  the  terms  Pru- 
dence, Justice,  Fortitude,  and  Order  in  the  titles 
of  the  four  following  chaptei-s,  at  the  same  time 
claiming  the  liberty  of  employing  these  words,  as  we 
shall  find  it  convenient,  in  the  more  restricted  sense 
which  they  commonly  bear. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PRUDENCE;  OR  DUTIES  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

^^A'N  there  be  duties  to  one's  self,  which  are  of 
absokite  obligation?  Duties  are  dues,  and  they 
imply  two  parties,  —  one  who  owes  them,  and  one  to 
whom  they  are  due,  —  the  debtor  and  the  creditor. 
But  the  creditor  may,  at  his  will,  cancel  the  debt,  and 
release  the  debtor.  In  selfward  duties,  then,  why 
may  I  not,  as  creditor,  release  myself  as  debtor  ? 
Why  may  I  not  —  so  long  as  I  violate  no  obligation 
to  others  —  be,  at  my  own  pleasure,  idle  or  indus- 
trious, self-indulgent  or  abstinent,  frivolous  or  se- 
rious? Why,  if  Kfe  seem  burdensome  to  me,  may  I 
not  relieve  myself  of  the  trouble  of  living  ?  The 
answer  is,  that  to  every  object  in  the  universe  with 
which  I  am  brought  into  relation  I  owe  its  fit  use, 
and  that  no  being  in  the  universe,  not  even  the  Om- 
nipotent, can  absolve  me  from  this  obligation.  Now 
my  several  powers  and  faculties,  with  reference  to 
my  will,  are  objects  on  which  my  volitions  take  effect, 
and  I  am  bound  to  will  their  fit  uses,  and  to  abstain 
from  thwarting  or  violating  those  uses,  on  the  same 
ground  on  which  I  am  bound  to  observe  and  rever- 
ence the  fitnesses  of  objects  that  form  no  part  of  my 
personality.     Moreover,  this  earthly  life  is,  with  ref- 


SELF-PRESER  VA  TION.  99 

eience  to  my  will,  an  object  on  which  my  volitions 
may  take  effect ;  I  learn  —  if  not  by  unaided  reason, 
from  the  Christian  revelation  —  that  my  life  has  its 
fit  uses,  both  in  this  world  and  in  preparation  for  a 
higher  state  of  being,  and  that  these  uses  are  often 
best  served  by  the  most  painful  events  and  experi- 
ences ;  and  I  thus  find  myself  bound  to  take  the  ut- 
most care  of  my  life,  even  when  it  seems  the  least 
worth  caring  for. 

The  duties  due  to  one's  self  are  self-preservation, 
the  attainment  of  knowledge,  self-control,  and  moral 
self-culture. 

SECTION  I. 
SELF-PRESERVATION. 

The  uses  of  life,  both  to  ourselves,  and  to  others 
through  us,  suffice,  as  we  have  said,  to  render  its  pres- 
ervation a  duty,  enjoined  upon  us  by  the  law  of  fit- 
ness. This  duty  is  violated  not  only  by  suicide  — 
against  which  it  is  useless  to  reason,  for  its  victims  in 
modern  Christendom  are  seldom  of  sound  mind  — 
but  equally  by  needless  and  wanton  exposure  to  peril. 
Such  exposure  is  frequently  incurred  in  reckless  feats 
of  strength  or  daring,  sometimes  consummated  in 
imm(^diate  death,  and  still  oftener  in  slower  self- 
destruction  by  disease.  There  are,  no  doubt,  occa- 
sions when  self-preservation  must  yield  to  a  higher 
duty,  and  humanity  has  made  no  important  stage  of 
progress    without   the   free    sacrifice  of   many  noble 


100  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

lives  ;  but  because  it  may  be  a  duty  to  give  life  in  th^ 
cause  of  truth  or  liberty,  it  by  no  means  follows  that 
one  has  a  right  to  throw  it  away  for  the  gratification 
of  vanity,  for  a  paltry  wager,  or  to  win  the  fame  of 
an  accomplished  athlete. 

The  duty  of  self-preservation  includes,  of  coui'se, 
a  reasonable  care  for  health,  without  which  the  uses 
of  life  are  essentially  restricted  and  impaired.  Here 
a  just  mean  must  be  sought  and  adhered  to.  There 
is,  on  the  one  hand,  an  excessive  care  of  the  body, 
which,  if  it  does  not  enfeeble  the  mind,  distracts  il 
from  its  true  work,  and  makes  the  spiritual  nature  a 
mere  slave  of  the  material  organism.  This  solicitude 
is  sometimes  so  excessive  as  to  defeat  its  own  purpose, 
by  creating  imaginary  diseases,  and  then  making  them 
real ;  and  the  number  is  by  no  means  small  of  those 
who  have  become  chronic  invalids  solely  by  the  pains 
they  have  taken  not  to  be  so.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  is  a  carelessness  as  to  dress  and  diet,  to  which 
the  strongest  constitution  must  at  length  yield ;  and 
the  intense  consciousness  of  strength  and  vigor,  which 
tempts  one  to  deem  himself  invulnerable,  not  infre- 
quently is  the  cause  of  life-long  infirmity  and  disabil- 
ity. Of  the  cases  of  prolonged  and  enfeebling  disease, 
probably  more  are  the  result  of  avoidable  than  of  un- 
avoidable causes,  and  if  we  add  to  these  the  numerous 
Instances  in  which  the  failure  of  health  is  to  be  as- 
cribed to  hereditary  causes  which  might  have  been 
avoided,  or  to  defective  sanitary  arrangements  thai 
may  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  the  public,  we  have  au 


EYGIENIC  RULEb.  101 

enormous  amount  of  serviceable  life  needlessly  wasted 
for  all  purposes  of  active  usefulness ;  while  for  the 
precious  examples  of  patience,  resignation,  and  cheei> 
ful  endurance,  the  infirmities  and  sufferings  incident 
to  the  most  favorable  sanitary  conditions  might  have 
been  amply  sufficient. 

There  are,  no  doubt,  such  wide  diversities  of  con- 
stitution and  temperament  that  no  specific  rules  of 
self-preservation  can  be  laid  down  ;  and  as  regards 
diet,  sleep,  and  exercise,  habit  may  render  the  most 
unlike  methods  and  times  equally  safe  and  beneficial. 
But  wholesome  food  in  moderate  quantity,  sleep  long 
enough  for  rest  and  refreshment,  exercise  sufficient  to 
neutralize  the  torpifying  influence  of  sedentary  pur- 
suits, and  these,  though  not  with  slavish  uniformity, 
yet  with  a  good  degree  of  regularity,  may  be  regarded 
as  essential  to  a  sound  working  condition  of  body  and 
mind.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  unstinted  use  of 
water,  which  has  happily  become  a  necessity  of  high 
civilization,  of  pure  air,  the  worth  of  which  as  a  sani- 
tary agent  is  practically  ignored  by  the  major  part  of 
our  community,  and  of  the  direct  light  of  heaven,  the 
exclusion  of  which  from  dwellings  from  motives  of 
economy,  while  it  may  spare  carpets  and  curtains, 
wilts  and  depresses  their  owners.  These  topics  are 
inserted  in  a  treatise  on  ethics,  because  whatever  has 
a  bearing  on  health,  and  thus  on  the  capacity  for  use- 
fulness self  ward  and  man  ward  which  constitutes  the 
whole  value  of  this  earthly  life,  is  of  grave  moraJ 
significance.     If  the    preservation  -f   life  is  a  du^. 


102  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 

then  all  hygienic  precautions  and  measures  are  duties, 
and  as  such  they  should  be  treated  by  the  individual 
moral  agent,  by  parents,  guardians,  and  teachers,  and 
by  the  public  at  large. 

Sslf-preservation  is  endangered  by  poverty.  In 
the  lack  or  precariousness  of  the  means  of  subsistence, 
the  health  of  the  body  is  liable  to  suffer ,  and  even 
where  there  is  not  absolute  want,  but  a  condition 
straitened  in  the  present  and  doubtful  as  to  the 
future,  the  mind  loses  much  of  its  working  power, 
and  life  is  deprived  of  a  large  portion  of  its  utility. 
Hence  the  duty  of  industry  and  economy  on  the  part 
of  those  dependent  on  their  own  exertions.  It  is  not 
a  man's  duty  to  be  rich,  though  he  who  in  acquiring 
wealth  takes  upon  himself  its  due  obligations  and 
responsibilities,  is  a  public  benefactor ;  but  it  is  every 
man's  duty  to  shun  poverty,  if  he  can,  and  he  who 
makes  or  keeps  himseK  poor  by  his  own  indolence, 
thriftlessness,  or  prodigality,  commits  a  sin  against 
his  own  life,  which  he  curtails  as  to  its  capacity  of 
good,  and  against  society,  which  has  a  beneficial  in- 
terest in  the  fully  developed  life  of  all  its  members. 

SECTION  II. 
THE  ATTAINMENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

Inasmuch  as  knowledge,  real  or  supposed,  must 
needs  precede  every  act  of  the  will,  and  as  the  adap- 
tation of  our  actions  to  our  purposes  depends  on  the 
accuracy  of  our  knowledge,  it  is  intrinsically  fitting 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  SENSES.  103 

that  our  cognitive  powers  should  be  thoroughly 
developed  and  trained,  and   diligently  employed. 
Especially  is  this  fitting,  because  —  as  has  been  al- 
ready shown  —  it  is  through  knowledge  alone  that 
we  can  bring  our  conduct  into  conformity  with  the 
absolute  right,  and  there  is  nothing  within  the  range 
of  our  possible  knowledge,  which  may  not  become  in 
Bome  way  connected  with  our  agency  as  moral  bemgs. 
It  is  of  prime  importance  that  what   we  seem  to 
know  we  know  accurately ;  and  as  it  is  through  the 
aenses  that  we  acquire  our  knowledge,  not  only  of  the 
outward  objects  with  which  we  are  daily  conversant, 
but  of  other   minds   than   our  own,  the   education 
of  the  senses  is  an  obvious  duty.     There  are  few  so 
prolific  sources  of  social  evil,  injustice,  and  misery,  as 
the  falsehood  of  persons  who  mean  to  tell  the  truth, 
but  who  see  or  hear  only  in  part,  and  supply  the  de- 
ficiencies of  perception  by  the  imagination.     In  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  of  the  highest  interest  and 
importance  this   same  hindrance  is  one  of   the  most 
frequent  obstacles.     The  careless  eye  and  the  heedless 
ear  waste  for  many  minds  a  large  portion  of  the  time 
ostensibly  given  to  serious  pursuits,  and  render  their 
growth  pitifully  slow  and  scanty  as  compared  with 
their  means  of  culture.     The  senses  may,  especially 
in  early  life,  be  trained  to  alertness  and  precision,  so 
that  they  shall  carry  to  the  mind  true  and  full  reports 
of  what  they  see   and  hear ;  and  it  is  only  by  such 
training  that  the  perceptive  faculties  can  accompUsh 
the  whole  work  for  which  they  are  designed  and  fitted. 


104  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

There  are,  also,  interior  senses,  apprehensive  pow« 
ers  of  the  mind,  which  equally  crave  culture,  and 
which  depend  for  their  precision  and  force  on  careful 
education  and  diligent  use.  Mere  observation,  ex- 
perience, or  study,  cannot  give  knowledge  that  will 
be  of  any  avail.  One  may  have  a  largely  and 
variously  stocked  memory,  and  yet  be  unable  to  em- 
ploy its  contents  to  his  own  advantage  or  to  the  ben- 
efit of  others.  Indeed,  there  are  minds  that  are  par- 
alyzed by  being  overloaded,  —  by  taking  in  freight 
faster  than  they  have  room  for  it.  It  is  only  materials 
which  the  mind  has  made  its  own,  incorporated  into 
its  substance,  that  it  can  fully  utilize.  Knowledge 
must  be  acted  upon  by  the  understanding,  the  reason, 
the  judgment,  before  it  can  be  transmuted  into  wis- 
dom, and  employed  either  in  the  acquisition  of  new 
truth  or  in  the  conduct  of  life.  Mental  activity,  then, 
is  a  duty ;  for  if  we  are  bound  to  preserve  life,  by 
parity  of  reason,  we  are  bound  to  improve  its  quality 
and  increase  its  quantity,  and  this  cannot  be  done 
unless  the  intellectual  powers  are  strengthened  by 
diligent  exercise,  as  well  as  nourished  by  the  facts  and 
truths  which  are  the  raw  material  of  wisdom. 

The  fit  objects  of  knowledge  vary  indefinitely 
with  one's  condition  in  Hfe.  Things  in  themselves 
trivial  or  evanescent  may,  under  certain  circumstances, 
claim  our  careful  attention  and  thorough  cognizance. 
We  ought,  on  the  one  hand,  to  know  all  we  can  about 
matters  concerning  which  we  must  speak  or  act,  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  refrain  from  voluntarily  speak- 


OBJECTS  OF  KNO  WLEDGE.  105 

ing  or  acting  in  matters  of  which  we  are  ignorant. 
Thus  our  social  relations  and  our  daily  intercourf?e 
may  render  it  incumbent  on  us  to  obtain  for  current 
use  a  large  amount  of  accurate  knowledge  which  is 
not  worth  our  remembering.  Then  a  man's  profession, 
stated  business,  or  usual  occupation  opens  a  large  field 
of  knowledge,  with  which  and  with  its  allied  provinces 
it  is  his  manifest  duty  to  become  conversant  to  his 
utmost  ability  ;  for  the  genuineness  and  value  of  his 
work  must  be  in  a  great  degree  contingent  on  his 
intelligence.  At  the  same  time,  every  man  is  bound 
to  make  his  profession  worthy  of  respect ;  in  failing 
to  do  so,  he  wrongs  and  injures  the  members  of  his 
profession  collectively ;  and  no  calling  can  obtain  re- 
spect, if  those  who  pursue  it  show  themselves  unculti- 
vated and  ignorant.  Thus  far,  then,  should  knowl- 
edge be  extended  on  grounds  of  practical  utility. 
Beyond  and  above  this  range,  there  is  an  unlimited 
realm  of  truth,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  inestimably 
precious  for  the  higher  culture  of  the  mind  and  char- 
acter. In  this  realm,  of  which  only  an  infinitesimal 
portion  can  be  conquered  during  an  earthly  lifetime, 
there  is  no  unfruitful  region,  —  there  is  no  department 
of  nature,  of  psychologj^,  or  of  social  science,  through 
which  the  mind  may  not  be  expanded,  exalted,  ener- 
gized, led  into  more  intimate  relations  with  the  Su- 
preme Intelligence,  endowed  with  added  power  of  ben- 
eficent agency.  While,  therefore,  knowledge  of  things 
as  they  are,  and  of  their  underlying  principles  and 
laws,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  acquire  it,  is  not  only  a 


106  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

privilege  beyond  all  price,  but  an  absolute  duty,  there 
are  no  moral  considerations  which  need  direct  or  limit 
our  choice  of  the  themes  of  research  or  study.  These 
may  properly  be  determined  by  native  or  acquired 
proclivity,  by  opportunity,  or  by  considerations  of 
usefulness.  Nor,  if  the  love  of  truth  be  formed  and 
cherished,  can  it  be  of  any  essential  importance 
whether  this  or  that  portion  of  truth  be  pursued  or 
neglected  during  the  brief  period  of  our  life  in  this 
world;  for,  at  best,  what  we  leave  unattained  must 
immeasurably  exceed  our  attainments,  and  there  is  an 
eternity  before  us  for  what  we  are  compelled  to  omit 
here.  At  the  same  time,  the  unbounded  scope  and 
the  vast  diversity  of  things  knowable  and  worthy  to 
be  known  are  adapted  to  stimulate  self-culture,  and 
in  that  same  proportion  to  invest  human  life  with  a 
higher  dignity,  a  larger  intrinsic  value,  and  a  more 
enduring  influence. 


SECTION  m. 

SELF-CONTROL. 

A  man  must  be  either  self-governed,  or  under 
a  worse  government  than  his  own.  God  governs 
man,  only  by  teaching  and  helping  them  to  govern 
themselves.  Good  men,  if  also  wise,  seek  not,  even 
for  the  highest  ends,  to  control  their  fellow-men,  but, 
so  far  as  they  can,  to  enable  and  encourage  them  to  ex- 
ercise a  due  self-control.      It  is  only  unwise  or  bad 


SELF-CONTROL.  107 

men  who  usurp  the  government  of  other  wills  than 
then*  own.  But  the  individual  will  is  oftener  made 
inefficient  by  passion,  than  by  direct  influence  from 
other  minds.  Man,  in  his  normal  state,  wills  either 
what  is  expedient  or  what  is  right.  Passion  suspends, 
as  to  its  objects,  all  reference  to  expediency  and 
right,  even  when  there  is  the  clearest  knowledge  of 
the  tendencies  of  the  acts  to  which  it  prompts.  Thus 
the  sensualist  often  knows  that  he  is  committing  sure 
and  rapid  suicide,  yet  cannot  arrest  himself  on  the 
declivity  of  certain  ruin.  The  man  in  whom  avarice 
has  become  a  passion  is  perfectly  aware  of  the  com- 
forts and  enjoyments  which  he  is  sacrificing,  yet  is  as 
little  capable  of  procuring  them  as  if  he  were  a  pau- 
per. Anger  and  revenge  not  infrequently  force  men 
to  crimes  which  they  know  will  be  no  less  fatal  to 
themselves  than  to  their  victims.  Now  if  a  man  will 
not  put  and  keep  himself  under  the  government  of 
conscience,  it  concerns  him  at  least  to  remain  under 
the  control  of  reason,  which,  if  it  do  not  compel  him 
to  do  right,  will  restrain  him  within  the  limits  of  ex- 
pediency, and  thus  will  insure  for  him  reputation,  a 
fair  position,  and  a  safe  course  in  life,  even  though  it 
fail  of  the  highest  and  most  enduring  good. 

Self-control  is  easily  lost,  and  is  often  lost  uncon- 
sciously. The  first  surrender  of  it  is  prone  to  be  final 
and  lifelong.  Indeed,  in  many  cases,  the  passion 
destined  to  be  dominant  has  nearly  reached  the  ma- 
turity of  its  power  previously  to  any  outward  viola- 
tion of  the  expedient  or  the  right.      Where  the  re- 


108  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

straining  influences  of  education  and  surroundings  are 
strong,  where  important  interests  are  at  stake,  or 
where  conscience  has  not  been  habitually  silenced  or 
tampered  with,  the  perilous  appetite,  desire,  or  affec- 
tion broods  long  in  the  thought,  and  is  so  largely 
indulged  in  reverie  and  anticipation,  that  it  becomes 
imperious  and  despotic  before  it  assumes  its  wonted 
forms  of  outward  manifestation.  Hence,  the  sudden 
infatuation  and  rapid  ruin  which  we  sometimes  wit- 
ness, —  the  cases  in  which  there  seems  but  a  single 
step  between  innocence  and  deep  depravity.  In  truth 
there  are  many  steps  ;  but  until  they  become  precip- 
itous, they  are  veiled  from  human  sight. 

Self-control,  then,  in  order  to  be  effective,  must 
be  exercised  upon  the  thoughts  and  feelings,  es- 
pecially upon  the  imagination,  which  fills  so  largely 
with  its  phantasms  and  day-dreams  our  else  unoc- 
cupied hours.  Let  these  hours  be  as  few  as  possible  , 
and  let  them  be  filled  with  thoughts  which  we  would 
not  blush  to  utter,  Avith  plans  which  we  could  actual- 
ize with  the  approving  suffrage  of  all  good  men.  The 
inward  life  which  would  dread  expression  and  ex- 
posure, already  puts  the  outward  life  in  peril ;  foi 
passion,  thus  inwardly  nourished  and  fostered,  can 
hardly  fail  to  assume  sooner  or  later  the  control  of 
the  conduct  and  the  shaping  of  the  character.  Let 
the  thoughts  be  well  governed,  and  the  life  is  emancir 
pa  ted  from  passion,  and  under  the  control  of  reason 
and  principle. 


MORAL  SELF-CULTURR.  109 

SECTION   IV. 

MOBAL   SELF-CULT UBE. 

It  is  evident  that,  whatever  a  man's  aims  may  be, 
the  attainment  of  them  depends  more  upon  him- 
Belf  than  upon  any  agency  that  he  can  employ, 
if  his  aim  be  extended  influence,  his  words  and  acts 
have  simply  the  force  which  his  character  gives  them. 
If  his  aim  be  usefulness,  his  own  personality  measures 
in  part  the  value  of  his  gifts,  and  determines  entirely 
the  worth  of  his  services.  If  his  aim  be  happiness, 
the  more  of  a  man  he  is,  the  larger  is  his  capacity  of 
enjoyment ;  for  as  a  dog  gets  more  enjoyment  out  of 
life  than  a  zoophyte,  and  a  man  than  a  dog,  so  does 
the  fully  and  symmetrically  developed  man  exceed  in 
receptivity  of  happiness  him  whose  nature  is  imper- 
fectly or  abnormally  developed.  Now  it  is  through 
the  thorough  training  and  faithful  exercise  of  his 
moral  faculties  and  powers  that  man  is  most  capable 
of  influence,  best  fitted  for  usefulness,  and  endowed 
with  the  largest  capacity  for  happiness.  History 
shows  this.  The  men  whose  lot  (if  any  but  our  own) 
we  would  be  willing  to  assume,  have  been,  without 
an  exception,  good  men.  If  there  are  in  our  respec- 
tive circles  those  whose  position  we  deem  in  every 
respect  enviable,  they  are  men  of  preeminent  moral 
excellence.  We  would  not  take  —  could  we  have  it  — 
the  most  desirable  external  position  with  a  damaged 
character.     Probably  there  are  few  who  do  not  regard 


.110  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

a  virtuous  character  as  so  much  to  be  desired,  that  in 
yielding  to  temptation  and  falling  under  the  yoke  of 
vicious  habits  they  still  mean  to  reform  and  to  become 
what  they  admire.  Old  men  who  have  led  profligate 
lives  always  bear  visible  tokens  of  having  forfeited  all 
the  valuable  purposes  of  life,  often  confess  that  their 
\^'hole  past  has  been  a  mistake,  and  not  infrequently 
bear  faithful  testimony  to  the  transcendent  worth  of 
moral  goodness.  To  remain  satisfied  without  this  is, 
therefore,  a  sin  against  one's  own  nature,  a  sacrifice 
of  well-being  and  happiness  which  no  one  has  a  right 
to  make,  and  which  no  prudent  man  will  make. 

Self -culture  in  virtue  implies  and  demands  reflec- 
tion on  duty  and  on  the  motives  to  duty,  on  one's 
own  nature,  capacities  and  liabilities,  and  on  those 
great  themes  of  thought,  which  by  their  amplitude 
and  loftiness  enlarge  and  exalt  the  minds  tliat  become 
familiar  Avith  them.  The  mere  tongue-work  or  hand- 
work of  virtue  slackens  and  becomes  deteriorated, 
when  not  sustained  by  profound  thought  and  feeling. 
Moreover,  it  is  the  mind  that  acts,  and  it  puts  into 
its  action  all  that  it  has  —  and  no  more  —  of  moral 
and  spiritual  energy,  so  that  the  same  outward  act 
means  more  or  less,  is  of  greater  or  less  worth,  in 
proportion  to  the  depth  and  vigor  of  feeling  and 
ptrpose  from  which  it  proceeds.  It  is  thus  that 
religious  devotion  nourishes  virtue,  and  that  none  are 
so  well  fitted  for  the  duties  of  the  earthly  fife  as  those 
who,  in  their  habitual  meditation,  are  the  most  inti- 
mately conversant  with  the  heavenly  life. 


EXAMPLE.  Ill 

111  moral  self-culture  great  benefit  is  derived  from 
example,  whether  of  the  li^dng  or  the  dead.  Per- 
haps the  dead  are,  in  this  respect,  more  useful  than 
the  living.  In  witnessing  the  worthy  deeds  and 
beneficent  agency  of  a  person  of  superior  excellence, 
the  tendency  is  to  an  over-exact  imitation  of  specific 
acts  and  methods,  which,  precisely  because  they  are 
spontaneous  and  fitting  in  his  case,  will  not  be  so  in 
the  case  of  his  copyist ;  while  the  biography  of  an 
eminently  good  man  enlists  our  sympathy  with  his 
spirit  rather  than  Avith  the  details  of  his  life,  and 
stimulates  us  to  embody  the  same  spirit  in  widely 
different  forms  of  duty  and  usefulness.  Thus  the 
school-master  who  in  Dr.  Arnold's  lifetime  heard  of 
his  unprecedented  success  as  an  educator,  would  have 
been  tempted  to  go  to  Rugby,  to  study  the  system  on 
the  ground,  and  then  to  adopt,  so  far  as  possible,  the 
very  plans  which  he  there  saw  Ln  successful  opera- 
tion, —  plans  which  might  have  been  fitted  neither  to 
his  genius,  the  traditions  of  his  school,  nor  the  demands 
of  its  patrons.  At  the  same  time,  the  interior  of 
Rugby  School  was  very  little  known,  the  principles 
of  its  administration  still  less,  to  persons  other  than 
teachers.  But  Arnold's  biography,  revealing  the 
foundation-principles  of  his  character  and  his  work, 
raised  up  for  him  a  host  of  imitators  of  all  classes 
and  conditions.  Price,  who  converted  his  immense 
candle-factory  near  London  into  a  veritable  Christian 
seminary  for  mutual  improvement  in  knowledge,  vir- 
tue, and  piety,  professed  to  owe  his  impulse  to  this 


112  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 

entorprise  solely  to  the  "  Life  of  Arnold,'  and  lik© 
instances  were  multipKed  in  very  various  professions 
throughout  the  English-speaking  world.  In  fine,  ex- 
ample is  of  service  to  us,  not  in  pointing  out  the 
precise  things  to  be  done,  but  in  exhibiting  the 
beauty,  loveliness,  and  majesty  of  moral  goodness, 
the  possibility  of  exalted  moral  attainments,  and  the 
varied  scope  for  their  exercise  in  human  life.  Even 
he  whose  example  we,  as  Christians,  hold  in  a  rever- 
ence which  none  other  shares,  is  to  be  imitated,  not 
by  slavishly  copying  his  specific  acts,  which,  because 
they  were  suitable  in  Judsea  in  the  first  century,  are 
for  the  most  part  unfitting  in  America  in  the  nine- 
teenth century,  but  by  imbibing  his  spirit,  and  then 
incarnating  it  in  the  forms  of  active  duty  and  service 
appropriate  to  our  time  and  land. 

Finally,  and  obviously,  the  practice  of  virtue  is 
the  most  efficient  means  of  moral  self -culture.  As 
the  thought  uttered  or  Avi'itten  becomes  indelibly  fixed 
in  the  mind,  so  doe^  the  principle  or  sentiment  em- 
bodied in  action  become  more  intimately  and  persist- 
ently an  element  of  the  moral  self-consciousness. 


CHAPTER   X. 

justice;    or,    duties    to   one's    FELLOW-BEINOa 

JUSTICE,  in  the  common  use  of  the  word,  refers 
only  to  such  rights  and  dues  as  can  be  precisely 
defined,  enacted  by  law,  and  enforced  by  legal  author- 
ity. Yet  we  virtually  recognize  a  broader  meaning  of 
the  word,  whenever  we  place  law  and  justice  in  oppo- 
sition to  each  other,  as  when  we  speak  of  an  unjust 
law.  In  this  phrase  we  imply  tliat  there  is  a  supreme 
and  universal  justice,  of  whose  requirements  human 
law  is  but  a  partial  and  imperfect  transcript.  This 
justice  must  embrace  all  rights  and  dues  of  all  beings, 
human  and  Divine  ;  and  it  is  in  this  sense  that  we 
may  regard  whatever  any  one  being  in  the  universe 
can  fitly  claim  of  another  being  as  coming  under  the 
head  of  justice.  Such,  as  we  have  already  intimated, 
is  the  sense  in  which  we  have  used  the  term  in  the 
caption  of  a  chapter  which  will  embrace  piety  and 
benevolence  no  less  than  integrity  and  veracity. 

SECTION  I. 
DUTIES   TO   GOD. 

While  we  cannot  command  our  affections,  we  can 
tjo  govern  and  direct  our  thoughts  as  to  excite  the 

8 


114  MORAL  PUILOSUPHY. 

affections  which  we  desire  to  cherish ;  and  if  certain 
affections  must  inevitably  result  from  certain  trains 
or  habits  of  thought,  those  affections  \\v,\\  be  regarded 
as  virtually  subject  to  the  will,  and,  if  right,  as  duties. 
It  is  in  this  sense  that  gratitu'le  and  love  to  G(>d  are 
duties.  We  cannot  contemplate  the  tokens  of  his 
love  in  the  outward  universe,  the  unnumbered  objects 
which  have  no  other  possible  use  than  to  be  enjoyed, 
the  benignity  of  his  perpetual  providence,  the  endow- 
ments and  capacities  of  our  own  being,  the  immor- 
tality of  our  natural  aspiration  and  our  Christian 
faith  and  hope,  the  forgiveness  and  redemption  that 
come  to  us  through  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  immeasur- 
able blessings  of  his  mission  and  gospel,  without  fer- 
vent gratitude  to  our  infinite  Benefactor.  Nor  can 
we  think  of  him  as  the  Archet}7)e  and  Source  of  all 
those  traits  of  spiritual  beauty  and  excellence  which, 
in  man,  call  forth  our  reverence,  admiration,  and  affec- 
tion, without  loving  in  Him  perfect  goodness,  purity, 
and  mercy.  These  attributes  might,  indeed,  of  them- 
selves fail  to  present  the  Supreme  Being  to  our  con- 
ceptions as  a  cognizable  personality,  were  it  not  that 
the  personal  element  is  so  clearly  manifest  in  the 
visible  universe  and  in  God's  constant  providence. 
But  there  are  numerous  objects,  phenomena,  and 
rv^ents  in  nature  and  providence  which  have  —  so  to 
speak  —  a  distinctive  personal  expression,  so  that  the 
familiar  metaphors  of  God's  coimtenance,  smile,  hand, 
and  voice  do  not  transcend  the  literal  experience  of 
lihn  who  goes  through  life  with  the  inward  eye  and 
ear  always  open. 


PUBLIC   WORSllli^.  115 

The  omnipresence  of  God  makes  it  the  dictate  of 
natural  piety  to  address  Him  <Iirectly  in  thanksgiv- 
ing and  prayer,  —  not,  of  necessity,  in  words,  except 
as  words  are  essential  to  the  definiteness  of  thoughts, 
but  in  such  words  or  thoughts  as  constitute  an  ex- 
press! :)n  to  Him  of  the  sentiments  of  which  He  is 
fittingly  the  object.  As  regards  prayer,  indeed,  the 
grave  doubts  that  exist  in  some  minds  as  to  its  effi- 
cacy might  be  urged  as  a  reason  why  it  should  not 
be  offered  ;  but  wrongly.  It  is  so  natural,  so  intrin- 
sically fitting  to  ask  what  we  desire  and  need  of  an 
omnipresent,  omnipotent,  all-merciful  Being,  who  has 
taught  us  to  call  him  our  Father,  that  the  very  appro- 
priateness of  the  asking  is  in  itself  a  strong  reason  for 
believing  that  we  shall  not  ask  in  vain.  Nor  ^an  we 
ask  in  vain,  if  through  this  communion  of  the  human 
spirit  with  the  Divine  there  be  an  inflow  of  strength 
or  of  peace  into  the  soul  that  prays,  even  though  the 
specific  objects  prayed  for  be  not  granted.  That 
these  objects,  when  material,  are  often  not  granted, 
we  very  well  know ;  yet  we  know  too  little  of  the 
extent  of  material  laws,  and  of  the  degree  to  which  a 
discretionary  Providence  may  work,  not  in  contraven- 
tion of,  but  through  those  laws,  to  pronounce  dog- 
matically that  the  prayers  of  men  are  wholly  im- 
n^cognized  in  the  course  of  events. 

As  the  members  of  the  same  community  have  very 
iuimerous  blessings  and  needs  in  common,  it  is  obvi- 
ously fitting  that  they  should  unite  in  public  wor- 
ship,  praise,  and  prayer :  and  if  this  be  a  duty  of 


116  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

the  community  collectively,  participation  in  it  must, 
by  parity  of  reason,  be  the  duty  of  its  individual 
members.  Public  worship  involves  the  fitness,  we 
may  even  say  the  necessity,  of  appropriating  exclu- 
sively to  it  certain  places  and  times.  Associations 
attach  themselves  to  places  so  indelibly,  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  maintain  the  gravity  and  sacredness 
of  devotional  services  in  buildings  or  on  spots  ordi- 
narily devoted  to  secular  purposes,  either  of  business 
or  of  recreation.  Nor  could  assemblies  for  worship 
be  convened,  otherwise  than  at  predetermined  and 
stated  intervals ;  nor  could  their  devotional  purpose 
ho,  served,  were  there  not  stated  portions  of  time 
sequestered  from  ordinary  avocations  and  amusements. 
Hence  the  duty  —  on  the  part  of  all  who  admit  the 
fitness  of  public  worship  —  of  reverence  for  conven- 
tionally sacred  places,  and  of  abstinence  from  what 
ever  is  inconsistent  with  the  religious  uses  of  the  day 
appropriated  to  worship.^ 

1  The  points  at  issue  with  regard  to  sabbatical  observance  hardly  belong 
to  an  elementary  treatise  on  ethics.  1  ought  not,  however,  to  leave  any 
doubt  as  to  my  own  opinion.  I  believe,  then,  the  rest  of  the  Sabbath  a 
lecessity  of  man's  constitution,  physical  and  mental,  of  that  of  the  beasts 
ubserviei  t  to  his  use,  and,  in  some  measure,  even  of  the  inanimate  *gents 
under  his  control,  while  the  sequestration  of  the  day  from  the  course  of 
ordinary  11  !e  is  equally  a  moral  and  religious  necessity.  The  weekly  Sab- 
hath  I  rngard  as  a  dictate  of  natural  piety,  and  a  primeval  institution,  re- 
enacted,  n  t  establislied,  by  Moses,  and  sanctioned  by  our  Saviour  when 
he  refers  to  the  Decalogue  as  a  compend  of  moral  duty,  as  also  in  various 
othei  forms  and  ways.  As  to  modes  of  sabbatical  observance,  the  rigid 
abstinences  and  austerities  once  common  in  New  England  were  derived 
from  the  Mosaic  ceremonial  law,  and  have  no  sanction  either  in  the  New 
Testament  or  in  the  habits  of  the  early  Christians.    I  can  cx^mceive  of  no 


POSITIVE   DUTIES.  11? 

It  remains  for  us  to  consider  the  obligations  im- 
posed by  an  acknowledged  revelation  from  God. 
The  position  in  which  we  are  placed  by  such  a  revela- 
tion may  best  be  illustrated  by  reference  to  what 
takes  place  in  every  human  family.  A  judicious 
father's  commands,  precepts,  or  counsels  to  his  son  are 
of  two  kinds.  In  the  first  place,  he  lays  emphatic 
stress  on  duties  which  the  son  knows  or  might  know 
from  his  own  sense  of  the  fitting  and  the  right,  such 
as  honesty,  veracity,  temperance.  These  duties  will 
not  be  in  reaHty  any  more  incumbent  on  the  son  be- 
cause they  are  urged  upon  him  by  his  father ;  but 
if  he  be  a  son  worthy  of  the  name,  he  will  be  more 
profoundly  impressed  by  their  obligation,  and  will 
find  in  his  filial  love  an  additional  and  strong  mo- 
tive toward  their  observance.  The  father  will,  in  the 
second  place,  prescribe  either  for  his  son's  benefit  or 
in  liis  own  service  certain  specific  acts,  in  themselves 
morally  indifferent,  and  these,  when  thus  prescribed, 
are  no  longer  indifferent,  but,  as  acts  of  obedience  to 
rightful  authority,  they  become  fitting,  right,  obliga- 
tory, and  endowed  with  all  the  characteristics  of  acts 
that  are  in  themselves  virtuous.  Now  a  revelation 
naturally  would,  and  the  Christian  revelation  does, 
contain  precepts  and  commands  of  both  these  classes. 
It  prescribes  with  solemn  emphasis  the  natural  vir- 

better  rule  for  the  Lord's  day,  than  that  each  person  so  spend  it  as  to  in- 
terfere as  little  as  possible  with  its  fitting  use  by  others,  and  to  m;ike  it  a9 
Availing  as  he  can  for  his  own  relaxation  from  secular  cares,  and  growth 
in  wisdom  and  goodness. 


118  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

tues  -which  are  obligatory  upon  us  on  grounds  of  in- 
trinsic fitness  ;  and  though  these  are  not  thus  made 
an 3^  the  more  our  duty,  we  have,  through  the  teach  - 
lugs  and  example  of  Jesus  Christ,  a  more  ^-i-vid 
sense  of  our  obligation,  a  higher  appreciation  of  the 
beauty  of  virtue,  and  added  motives  to  its  cultivation 
d<Tived  from  the  love,  the  justice,  and  the  retributive 
providence  of  God.  The  Christian  revelation,  also, 
contains  certain  directions,  not  in  themselves  of  any 
intrinsic  obligation,  as,  for  instance,  those  relating  to 
baptism  and  the  eucharist.  So  far  as  we  can  see, 
other  and  very  different  rites  might  have  served  the 
same  purpose  with  these.  Yet  it  is  fitting  and  right 
that  these,  and  not  others,  should  be  observed,  simply 
because  the  Divine  authority  which  enacts  them  has 
a  right  to  command  and  to  be  obeyed.  Duties  of 
this  class  are  commonly  called  positive.,  in  contra- 
distinction from  natural  obligations.  Both  classes 
are  equally  imperative  on  the  ground  of  fitness  ;  but 
with  this  difference,  that  in  the  latter  class  the  fitness 
resides  in  the  duties  themselves,  in  the  former  it 
grows  out  of  the  relation  between  him  who  gives  and 
those  who  receive  the  command. 


SECTION  n. 

DUTIES   OF  THE  FAMniY. 

The  inviolableness  and  permanence  of  marriage 

are  so  absolutelv  essential  to  tlie  stabilitv  and   well- 


MARRIAGE  A   PERMANENT   CONTRACT.       119 

being  of  families,  as  to  be  virtually  a  part  of  the  law 
of  nature.  The  young  of  other  species  ha'^e  but  a 
very  brief  period  of  dependence ;  while  the  human 
child  advances  very  slowly  toward  maturity,  and  for 
a  considerable  portion  of  his  Ufe  needs,  for  both  body 
and  mind,  support,  protection,  and  guidance  from  his 
s(  niors.  The  separation  of  parents  by  other  causes 
than  death  might  leave  it  an  unsolvable  question,  to 
v'hich  of  them  the  custody  of  their  children  apper- 
\  lined  ;  and  in  whichever  way  they  were  disposed  of, 
their  due  nurture  and  education  would  be  inade- 
quately secured.  The  children  might  be  thrown 
upon  the  mother's  care,  while  the  means  of  support- 
ing them  belonged  exclusively  to  the  father.  Or  in 
the  father's  house  they  might  suffer  for  lack  of  a 
mother's  personal  attention  and  services  ;  while  if  he 
contracted  a  new  matrimonial  connection,  the  chil- 
dren of  the  previous  marriage  could  hardly  fail  of 
aeglect,  or  even  of  hatred  and  injury,  from  their 
mother's  successful  rival,  especially  if  she  had  chil- 
dren of  her  own.^ 

The  life-tenure  of  the  marriage-contract  contributes 
equally  to  the  happiness  of  the  conjugal  relation,  in 
the  aggregate.  There  are,  no  doubt,  individual  cases 
of  hardship,  in  which  an  utter  and  irremediable  in- 

1  It  was  the  malignity  displayed  toward  the  children  of  divorced  wives 
by  the  women  who  succeeded  them  iu  the  affections  and  homes  of  theit 
nusbands,  that  in  Roman  literature  attached  to  the  name  of  a  stepmothei 
( noverca)  the  most  hateful  associations,  which  certainly  have  no  place  ic 
modern  Christendom,  where  the  stepmother  oftener  than  not  assumes  the 
maternal  cares  of  the  deceased  wife  as  if  they  were  natively  her  own. 


120  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

compatibility  of  temper  and  character  makes  married 
life  a  burden  and  a  weariness  to  both  parties.  But 
the  cases  are  much  more  numerous,  in  which  discrep- 
ancies of  taste  and  disposition  are  brought  by  time 
and  habit  into  a  more  comprehensive  harmony,  and 
the  husband  and  wife,  because  unlike,  become  only 
the  more  essential,  each  to  the  other's  happiness  and 
welfare.  Where  there  is  sincere  affection,  there  is 
little  danger  that  lapse  of  years  in  a  permanent  mar- 
riage will  enfeeble  it ;  while,  were  the  contract  void- 
able at  will,  there  might  be  after  marriage,  as  often 
before  marriage,  a  series  of  attachments  of  seemingly 
equal  ardor,  each  to  be  superseded  in  its  turn  by 
some  new  attraction.  Where,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
union  is  the  result,  not  of  love,  but  of  mutual  esteem 
and  confidence,  aided  by  motives  of  convenience,  the 
very  possibility  of  an  easy  divorce  would  render  each 
party  captious  and  suspicious,  so  that  confidence 
could  be  easily  shaken,  and  esteem  easily  impaired ; 
while  in  those  who  expect  alwa^^s  to  have  a  common 
home  the  tendency  is  to  those  habits  of  mutual  toler- 
ance, accommodation,  and  concession,  through  which 
confidence  and  esteem  ripen  into  sincere  and  lasting 
affection. 

As  in  many  respects  each  family  must  be  a  unit, 
and  as  the  conflict  of  rival  powtis  is  no  less  ruinous 
to  a  household  than  to  a  state,  the  family  must  needs 
have  one  recognized  head  or  representative,  and  this 
place  ig  fittingly  held  by  the  husband  rather  than  by 
the  wife  ;  for  by  the  lav/s  and  usages  of  all  civilized 


DUTIES  OF  CHLLDREi\.  121 

Diitions  he  is  held  responsible  —  except  in  criminal 
matters  —  for  his  wife  and  his  minor  children.  But 
in  the  well-ordered  family,  each  party  to  the  marriage- 
contract  is  supreme  in  his  or  her  own  department, 
and  in  that  of  the  other  prompt  in  counsel,  sympathy, 
and  aid,  and  slow  in  dissent,  remonstrance,  or  re- 
proof. These  departments  are  defined  with  perfect 
distinctness  by  considerations  of  intrinsic  fitness,  and 
any  attempt  to  interchange  them  can  be  only  subver- 
sive of  domestic  peace  and  social  order. 

The  parent's  duties  to  the  child  are  maintenance 
in  his  own  condition  in  life,  care  for  his  education  and 
his  moral  and  religious  culture,  advice,  restraint  when 
needed,  punishment  when  both  deserved  and  needed, 
pure  example  and  wholesome  influence,  aid  in  the 
formation  of  habits  and  aptitudes  suited  to  his  prob- 
able calling  or  estate  in  his  adult  years,  and  provision 
for  his  favorable  entrance  on  his  future  career.  Some 
of  these  duties  are  obviously  contingent  on  the  par- 
ent's ability;  others  are  absolute  and  imperative. 
The  judicious  parent  will,  on  the  one  hand,  retain  his 
parental  authority  as  long  as  he  is  legally  responsible 
for  his  child  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  will  train  him 
gradually  to  self-help  and  self-dependence,  and  will 
concede  to  him,  as  he  approaches  years  of  maturity, 
such  freedom  of  choice  and  action  as  is  consistent 
with  his  permanent  well-being. 

The  child's  duty  is  unqualified  submission  to 
the  parent's  authority,  obedience  to  his  commands, 
and   compliance  with  his   wishes,  in   all   things  not 


122  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

morally  wrong,  and  this,  not  only  for  the  years  of 
minority,  but  so  long  as  he  remains  a  member  of  his 
parent's  family,  or  dependent  on  him  for  subsistence. 
Subsequently,  it  is  undoubtedly  his  duty  to  consult 
the  reasonable  wishes  of  his  parent,  to  hold  him  in 
respect  and  reverence,  to  minister  assiduously  to  his 
comfort  and  happiness,  and,  if  need  be,  to  sustain 
him  in  his  years  of  decline  and  infirmity. 


SECTION  III 
VEKACITY. 

The  duty  of  veracity  is  not  contingent  on  the 
rights  of  any  second  person,  but  is  derived  from  con- 
siderations of  intrinsic  fitness.  If  representations  of 
facts,  truths,  or  opinions  are  to  be  made,  it  is  obvi- 
ously fitting  and  right  that  they  should  be  conformed 
to  one's  knowledge  or  belief  ;  and  no  one  can  make 
representations  which  he  knows  to  be  false  without 
the  consciousness  of  unfitness  and  wrong. 

The  most  important  interests  of  society  depend 
on  the  confidence  which  men  repose  in  one  an- 
other's veracity.  But  for  this,  history  would  be 
worth  no  more  than  fiction,  and  its  lessons  would  be 
unheeded.  But  for  this,  judicial  proceedings  would 
be  a  senseless  mockery  of  justice,  and  the  administra- 
tion of  law  and  equity,  the  merest  haphazard.  But 
for  this,  the  common  intercourse  of  fife  would  be  in- 
vaded by  incessant  doubt  and  suspicion,  and  its  daily 


ANONYMOUS  PUBLICATIONS.  123 

transa(;tions,  aimless  and  tentative.  Against  this 
condition  of  things  man  is  defended  by  his  own  na- 
ture. It  is  more  natural  to  tell  the  truth  than  to 
utter  falsehood.  The  very  persons  who  are  the  least 
scrupulous  in  this  matter  utter  the  truth  when  they 
have  no  motive  to  do  otherwise.  Spontaneous  false- 
hood betokens  insanity. 

The  essence  of  falsehood  lies  in  the  intention  to 
deceive,  not  in  the  words  uttered.     The  words  may 
bear  a  double  sense  ;  and  while  one  of  the  meanino-s 
may  be   true,   the   circumstances   or  the   manner  of 
utterance  may  be  such   as  inevitably  to  impose  the 
false  meaning  upon  the  hearer.     A  part  of  the  truth 
may  be  told  in  such  a  way  as  to  convey  an  altogether 
false  impression.     A  fact  may  be  stated  with  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  misleading  the  hearer  with  regard  to 
another  fact.     Looks  or  gestures  may  be  framed  with 
the  intent  to  communicate   or  confirm  a  falsehood. 
Silent  acquiescence  in  a  known  falsehood  may  be  no 
le^s  criminal  than  its  direct  utterance. 

But  has  not  one  a  right  to  conceal  facts  which 
another  has  no  right  to  know?  In  such  a  case, 
concealment  is  undoubtedly  a  right ;  but  falsehood, 
or  equivocation,  or  truth  which  will  convey  a  false 
impression,  is  not  a  right.  This  question  has  not  un- 
frequently  arisen  with  regard  to  anonymous  publica- 
tions. It  might  be  a  fair  subject  of  inquiry,  whether 
anonymous  wi-iting  is  not  in  all  cases  objectionable, 
on  the  ground  that  a  sense  of  personal  responsibility 
for  statements  given   to  the  pubUc  would   insure   a 


124  MORAL  riULOSOPUY. 

more  uniform  regard  to  truth  and  justice,  as  well  ay 
greater  care  in  the  ascertainment  of  facts,  and  more 
mature  deliberation  in  the  formation  of  judgments 
and  opinions.  But  if  anonymous  writing  be  justified, 
the  writer  is  authorized  to  guard  his  secret  by  em- 
ploying a  copyist,  or  by  covert  modes  of  transmission 
to  the  press,  or  by  avoiding  such  peculiarities  of  style 
as  might  betray  him.  But  if,  notwithstanding  these 
precautions,  the  authorship  be  suspected  and  charged 
upon  him,  we  cannot  admit  his  right  to  denial, 
whether  expressly,  or  by  implication,  or  even  by  the 
utterance  of  a  misleading  fact.  He  undertook  the 
authorship  with  the  risk  of  discovery  ;  he  had  no 
right  to  give  publicity  to  what  he  has  need  to  be 
ashamed  of ;  and  if  there  be  secondary,  though  grave 
reasons  why  he  would  prefer  to  remain  unknown, 
they  cannot  be  sufficient  to  justify  him  in  falsehood. 

Is  truth  to  be  told  to  an  insane  person,  when  it 
might  be  dangerous  to  him  or  to  others  ?  May  not 
he  be  deceived  for  his  benefit,  decoyed  into  a  place  of 
safe  detention,  or  deterred  by  falsehood  from  some 
intended  act  of  violence  ?  Those  who  have  the 
guardianship  of  the  insane  are  unanimous  in  the 
opinion  that  falsehood,  when  discovered  by  them, 
is  always  attended  with  injurious  consequences,  and 
that  it  should  be  resorted  to  only  when  imperatively 
required  for  their  immediate  safety  or  for  that  of 
others.  But  in  such  cases  the  severest  moralist  could 
not  deny  the  necessity,  and  therefore  the  right,  of 
falsehood.     But  it  would  be  falsehood  in  form,  and 


FALSEHOOD  IN  EXTREME   CASES.  125 

not  in  fact.  Truth-telling  implies  two  conscious  par- 
ties. The  statement  from  which  an  insane  person  will 
draw  false  inferences,  and  which  will  drive  him  to 
an  act  or  paroxysm  of  madness,  is  not  truth  to  him. 
The  statement  which  is  indispensable  to  his  safety, 
repose,  or  reasonable  conduct,  is  virtually  true  to  liim, 
inasmuch  as  it  conveys  impressions  as  nearly  con- 
formed to  the  truth  as  he  is  capable  of  receiving. 

Is  falsehood  justifiable  for  the  safety  of  one's 
own  life  or  that  of  others  ?  This  is  a  broad  ques- 
tion, and  comprehends  a  very  wide  diversity  of  cases. 
It  includes  the  cases,  in  which  the  alternative  is  to 
deny  one's  pohtical  or  religious  convictions,  or  to  suf- 
fer death  for  the  profession  of  them.  Here,  however, 
there  can  be  no  difference  of  opinion.  Political  free- 
dom and  religious  truth  have  been,  in  past  ages, 
propagated  more  effectively  by  martyrdoms,  than  by 
any  other  instrumentaUty ;  and  no  men  have  so  fully 
merited  the  gratitude  and  reverence  of  their  race  as 
those  who  have  held  the  truth  dearer  than  life. 

But  the  form  which  the  question  ordinarily  as- 
sumes is  this  :  If  by  false  information  I  can  prevent 
the  commission  of  an  atrocious  crime,  am  I  justi- 
fied in  the  falsehood  ?  It  ought  first  to  be  said, 
that  this  is  hardly  a  practical  question.  Probably  it 
has  never  presented  itself  practically  to  any  person 
under  whose  eye  these  pages  will  fall,  or  in  any  in- 
stance within  his  knowledge.  Nor  can  the  famihar 
discussion  of  such  extreme  cases  be  of  any  possible 
benefit.     On    the    other   hand,   he    who   famiUarizes 


126  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

himseK  with  the  idea  that  under  such  a  stress  of  cir- 
cumstances what  else  were  wrong  becomes  right,  will 
be  prone  to  apply  similar  reasoning  to  an  exigency 
somewhat  less  urgent,  and  thence  to  any  case  in 
which  great  apparent  good  might  result  from  a  de- 
parture from  strict  veracity.  Far  better  is  it  to  make 
literal  truth  the  unvarying  law  of  life,  and  then  to 
rest  in  the  assurance  that,  should  an  extreme  case 
present  itself,  the  exigency  of  the  moment  will  sug- 
gest the  course  to  be  pursued.  Yet,  in  ethical  strict- 
ness, falsehood  from  one  self-conscious  person  to  an- 
other cannot  be  justified ;  bat  we  can  conceive  of  cir- 
cumstances in  which  it  might  be  extenuated.  There 
are  no  degrees  of  right ;  but  of  wrong  there  may  be 
an  infinite  number  of  degrees.  One  straight  line  can- 
not be  straighter  than  another  ;  but  we  can  conceive 
of  a  curve  or  a  waving  line  that  shall  have  but  an 
infinitesimal  divergence  from  a  straight  line.  So  in 
morals,  there  mav  be  an  infinitesimal  wroncj,  —  an  act 
which  cannot  be  pronounced  right,  yet  shall  diverge 
Bo  little  from  the  right  that  conscience  would  contract 
from  it  no  appreciable  stain,  that  man  could  not  con- 
demn it,  and  that  we  cannot  conceive  of  its  being 
registered  against  the  soul  in  the  chancery  of  heaven. 
Such  may  be  the  judgment  which  would  properly 
attach  itself  to  a  falsehood  by  which  an  atrocious 
crtine  was  prevented. 

Promises  belong  under  the  head  of  veracity  for  a 
double    reason,  inasmuch   as   they  demand   in   their 


PROMISES.  127 

making  the  truthful  declaration  of  a  sincere  purpose, 
and  in  their  execution  an  equal  loyalty  to  the  truth, 
even  though  it  involve  inconvenience,  cost,  or  loss. 
The  words  of  a  promise  may  often  bear  more  than 
one  interpretation  ;  but  it  is  obviously  required  by 
veracity  that  the  promiser  should  fulfil  his  promise  in 
the  sense  in  which  he  supposed  it  to  be  understood  by 
him  to  whom  it  was  made. 

There  are  oases  in  which  a  promise  should  not 
be  kept.  The  promise  to  perform  an  immoral  act  is 
void  from  the  beginning.  It  is  wrong  to  make  it,  and 
a  double  wrong  to  keep  it.  The  promise  to  perform 
an  act,  not  intrinsically  immoral,  but  unlawful,  should 
be  regarded  in  the  same  light.  If  both  parties  were 
aware,  when  the  promise  was  made,  of  the  unlawful- 
ness of  the  act,  then  neither  party  has  the  right  to 
deem  himself  injured  by  the  other.  If,  however,  the 
promiser  was  aware  of  the  unlawfulness  of  his  prom- 
ise, while  the  promisee  supposed  it  lawful,  the  prom- 
iser, though  not  bound  by  his  promise,  is  under 
obligation  to  remunerate  the  promisee  for  his  disap- 
pointment or  loss.  If  the  act  promised  becomes  un- 
lawful between  the  making  and  the  execution  of  the 
promise,  the  promise  is  made  void,  and  the  promisee 
has  no  ground  of  complaint  against  the  promiser. 
Thus,  if  a  man  promised  to  send  to  a  correspondent 
goods  of  a  certain  description  at  a  certain  time,  and 
before  that  time  the  exportation  of  such  goods  were 
prohibited  by  law,  he  would  be  free  both  from  his 
promise  and  from  responsibility  for  its  non-fulfilment. 


128  MORAI    PHILOSOPHY. 

A  promise  neither  immoral  nor  unlawful,  but  made 
under  a  mistake  common  to  both  parties,  and  such 
as  —  had  it  been  known  —  would  have  prevented  the 
promise,  is  void.  An  extorted  promise  to  perform 
an  immoral  or  unlawful  act  cannot  be  binding.  One 
has,  indeed,  no  moral  right  to  make  such  a  promise, 
though  if  the  case  be  one  of  extreme  urgency  and 
peril,  extenuating  circumstances  may  reduce  the 
wrong  to  an  infinitesimal  deviation  from  the  right ; 
but,  when  the  duress  is  over,  no  considerations  can 
justify  the  performance  of  what  it  was  wrong  to 
promise.  But  a  promise,  not  in  itself  immoral  or 
unlawful,  is  binding,  though  made  under  duress. 
Thus,  if  a  man  attacked  by  bandits  has  had  his  life 
spared  on  condition  of  a  pecuniary  ransom,  he  is 
bound  to  pay  the  ransom  ;  for  at  the  moment  of  peril 
he  thought  his  life  worth  all  he  promised  to  give  for 
it,  and  it  is  neither  immoral  nor  unlawful  to  give 
money,  even  to  a  robber.  In  a  case  like  this,  regard 
for  the  safety  of  others  should,  also,  have  weight ;  for 
in  a  country  liable  to  such  perils,  the  breach  of  a 
promise  by  one  man  might  cost  the  community  the 
lives  of  many. 

Contracts  are  mutual  promises,  in  which  each 
party  puts  himself  under  specific  obligations  to  the 
other.  They  are  to  be  interpreted  on  the  same  prin- 
ciples, and  to  be  regarded  as  void  or  voidable  on  the 
same  grounds,  with  promises. 

An   oath   is  an  invocation  of   the  protection  and 


OATHS  129 

blessing  of  God,  or  of  his  indignation  and  curse,  upon 
the  person  swearing,  according  as  his  assertion  is  true 
or  false,  or  as  his  promise  shall  be  observed  or  violated. 
*'  So  help  you  God,"  the  form  in  common  use  in  this 
country,  expresses  the  idea  that  underlies  an  oath,  — 
so  being,  of  course,  the  emphatic  word  Oaths  are 
exacted  of  witnesses  in  courts  of  justice  in  confii-ma- 
tion  of  their  testimony,  and  of  incumbents  of  public 
offices  in  pledge  of  their  fidelity.  They  are  required, 
too,  in  attestation  of  invoices,  inventories  of  estates, 
returns  of  taxable  property,  and  various  financial  and 
statistical  statements  made  under  public  authority. 
There  are,  also,  not  a  few  persons  of  whom,  and  occa- 
sions on  which  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  govern- 
ment of  the  state  or  nation  is  demanded. 

An  oath  does  not  enhance  one's  obligation  to 
tell  the  truth,  or  to  fulfil  his  promise.  This  obliga- 
tion is  entire  and  perfect  in  all  cases,  on  the  ground 
of  intrinsic  fitness,  and  of  the  known  will  and  com- 
mand of  God.  But  the  tendency  of  oaths  is  to  estab- 
lish in  the  minds  of  men  two  classes  of  assertions  and 
promises,  one  more  sacred  than  the  other.  He  who 
is  required  under  the  solemn  sanction  of  an  oath 
merely  to  tell  the  truth  or  to  make  a  promise  in  good 
faith,  arrives  naturally  at  the  conclusion  that  he  is 
bound  to  a  less  rigid  accuracy  or  fidelity  in  ordinary 
statements  or  promises.  The  law  of  the  land,  as  we 
have  seen,  bears  an  important  part  in  the  ethical  edu- 
cation  of  the  young;  and  by  means  of  the  legal  dis- 
tinction created  between  assertions  or  promises  under 


130  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

oath  and  those  made  without  that  sanction,  children 
and  youth  are  trained  to  regard  simple  truth-telling 
and  promise-keeping  as  of  secondary  obligation. 
This  effect  of  legal  oaths  is  attested  by  the  prevalence 
of  profane  swearing,  and  by  the  frequent  use  of  oath- 
like forms  of  asseveration,  not  regarded  as  profane,  by 
persons  of  a  more  serious  character.  Except  in  the 
religious  sects  that  abjure  the  use  of  oaths,  nine  per- 
sons out  of  ten  swear  more  or  less,  and  spontaneously 
confirm  statements  which  are  in  the  least  degree 
strange  or  difficult  of  belief,  or  promises  to  which 
they  wish  to  give  an  air  of  sincerity  and  earnestness, 
by  the  strongest  oaths  they  dare  to  use.  This  comes 
of  a  felt  necessity,  which  will  exist  as  long  as  preemi- 
nent sanctity  is  attached  to  legal  oaths. 

Oaths  are  notoriously  ineffective  in  insuring 
truth  and  fidehty.  So  far  as  their  educational  in 
fluence  is  concerned,  they  tend,  as  we  have  seen,  to 
undermine  the  reverence  for  truth  in  itself  considered, 
which  is  the  surest  safeguard  of  individual  veracity. 
Then  too,  so  far  as  rehance  is  placed  upon  an  oath, 
the  attention  of  those  concerned  is  directed  with  the 
less  careful  scrutiny  to  the  character  for  veracity  borne 
by  him  to  whom  it  is  administered.  In  point  of  fact, 
men  swear  falsely  whenever  and  wherever  they  would 
be  willing  to  utter  falsehood  without  an  oath.  In 
courts  of  justice,  the  pains  and  penal oies  of  perjury 
undoubtedly  prevent  a  great  deal  of  false  swearing ; 
but  precisely  the  same  penalties  are  attached  to  the 
affirmation  of  persons  who,  on  the  ground  of  relig- 


OATHS  INEFFECTIVE.  1.31 

ious  scruples,  are  excused  from  swearing,  and  they 
certainly  are  none  too  severe  for  false  testimony,  in 
whatever  way   it   may  be   given.     Notwithstanding 
this  checli,  however,  it  is  well  known  that  before  a 
corrupt    or   incompetent    tribunal,    an    unprincipled 
advocate  never  finds   any  difficulty  in  buying  false 
testimony  ;  and  even  where  justice  is  uprightly  and 
skilfully   administered,  it  is  not   rare   to   encounter 
between  equally  credible  witnesses  such  flagrant  and 
irreconcilable  contradictions  as  to  leave  no  room  for 
any   hypothesis   other  than  perjury  on  one  side   or 
both.      Perjury    in    transactions   with    the   national 
revenue  and  with  municipal  assessors  is  by  no  means 
unprecedented  among  persons  of  high  general  reputa- 
tion.    False  oaths  of  this  description  are,  indeed,  not 
infrequently  preceded  by  some  fictitious  formalism, 
such  as  an  unreal  and  temporary  transfer  of  prop- 
erty ;  but  this  is  done,  not  in  order  to  evade  the  guilt 
of  perjury,  but,  in  case  of  detection,  to  open  a  tech- 
nical escape  from  its  legal  penalty.    Promissory  oaths 
are  of  equally  Httle  worth.     There  is  not  a  public 
functionary  from  the  President  of  the  United  States 
to  the  village  constable,  who  does  not  take  what  is 
meant  to  be  a  solemn  oath  (though  often  adminis- 
tered with  indecent  levity)  to  be  loyal  to  the  consti- 
tution of  the  country  or  state,  and  faithful  in  the 
discharge  of  his  official  duties.     Yet  what  effect  has 
this  vast  amount  of  swearing,  if  it  be  not  to  make 
perjury  so  familiar  an  offence  as  to  be  no   longer 
deemed  disgraceful  ?     Not   a   bribe   is    taken   by  a 


182  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

meoiber  of  Congress,  not  a  contract  surreptitiously 
obtained  by  a  municipal  official,  not  an  appointment 
made  to  the  known  detriment  of  the  public  on  per- 
sonal or  party  grounds,  \vithout  the  commission  of  a 
crime,  in  theory  transcendently  heinous,  in  practice 
constantly  condoned  and  ignored.  Nor  can  we  be 
mistaken  in  regarding  the  sacrilege  and  virtual  blas- 
phemy resulting  from  the  institution  of  judicial,  as- 
sertory, and  promissory  oaths,  as  holding  no  sec- 
ondary place  among  the  causes  of  the  moral  decline 
and  corruption  of  which  we  witness  so  manifest  to- 
kens. 

To  one  who  does  not  carry  foregone  conclusions  of 
his  own  to  the  interpretation  of  the  New  Testament, 
it  can  hardly  appear  otherwise  than  certain  that  the 
Founder  of  Christianity  intended  to  prohibit  all 
oaths.  His  precept,  "  Swear  not  at  all,"  occurs  in  a 
series  of  specifications  of  maxims  drawn  from  the 
standard  morality  of  his  day,  under  each  of  which  he 
sets  aside  the  existing  ethical  rule,  and  substitutes  for 
it  one  covering  precisely  the  same  ground,  and  con- 
formed to  the  intrinsic  right  as  represented  in  his 
own  spirit  and  life.  "  Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath 
been  said,  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth ; 
but  I  say  unto  you,  that  ye  resist  not  evil."  "  Ye 
have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said.  Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbor,  and  hate  thine  enemy  ;  but  I  say  unto 
you.  Love  your  enemies."  The  analogy  of  these  and 
other  declarations  of  the  same  series  compels  us  to 
believe  that  when  Jesus  said,  "  Ye  have  heard  that  it 


OATHS  FORBIDDEN  BY  CHRIST.  133 

hith  been  said  by  them  of  old  time,  Thou  shalt  not 
forswear  thyself,  but  shalt  perform  unto  the  Lord 
thine  oaths,"  the  precept  which  followed,  "  I  say  unto 
you,  S^ear  not  at  all,"  must  have  applied  to  the  same 
subject-matter  with  the  maxim  which  precedes  it,  — 
that  Jesus  must  have  intended  to  disallow  something 
that  had  been  previously  permitted.  If  so,  not  triv- 
ial or  profane  oaths  alone,  but  oaths  made  in  good 
faith  and  with  due  solemnity  must  have  been  in- 
cluded in  the  precept,  ''  Swear  not  at  all."  i  It  is  his- 
torically certain  that  the  primitive  Christians  thus 
understood  the  evangelic  precept.  They  not  only 
refused  the  usual  idolatrous  forms  of  adjuration,  but 
maintained  that  all  oaths  had  been  forbidden  by  their 
Divine   Lawgiver  ;  nor  have  we  any  proof  of  their 

1  When  Jesus  forbids  swearing  by  heaven,  because  "  it  is  God's  throne," 
and  by  the  earth,  because  "  it  is  his  footstool,"  the  inference  is  obvioua 
that,  for  still  stronger  reasons,  all  direct  swearing  by  God  himself  is  pro- 
hibited. The  word  ixvre,  which  introduces  the  oaths  by  inferior  objects 
specified  in  the  text  under  discussion,  not  infrequently  corresponds  to  our 
phrase  not  even.  With  this  sense  of  nx^'re,  the  passage  would  be  rendered, 
"  But  I  say  unto  you,  Swear  not  at  all,  not  even  by  heaven,"  etc. 

I  find  that  some  writers  on  this  subject  quote  in  vindication  of  oaths  on 
solenm  occasions  the  instances  in  the  Scriptures  in  which  God  is  said  to 
have  sworn  by  Himself.  The  reply  is  obvious,  that  no  being  can  swear  by 
himself,  the  essential  significance  of  an  oath  being  an  appeal  to  some  bein^ 
or  object  other  than  one's  self.  Because  God  *'can  swear  by  no  greater," 
itiscertam  that  when  this  phraseology  is  used  concerning  Him,  it  is  em- 
ployed figuratively,  to  aid  the  poverty  of  human  conceptions,  and  to  ex- 
press the  certainty  of  his  promise  by  the  strongest  terms  which  human  lan- 
r.^-gti  affords.  In  like  manner,  God  is  said  by  the  sacred  writeis  to  repent 
of  intended  reiribution  to  evil-doers,  not  that  infinite  justice  and  love  can 
change  in  thought,  plan,  or  purpose,  but  because  a  change  of  disposition 
ftnd  feeling  is  wont  to  precede  human  clemency  to  evil-doers. 


184  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 

having  receded  from  this  position,  until  that  strange 
fusion  of  church  and  state  under  Constanfcine,  in 
which  it  is  hard  to  say  whether  Christianity  mounted 
the  throne  of  the  Csesars  or  succumbed  to  their  rule. 

SECTION  IV. 

HONESTY. 

Honesty  relates  to  transactions  in  which  money  or 
other  property  is  concerned.  In  its  broadest  sense, 
it  forbids  not  only  the  violation  of  the  rights  of  indi- 
viduals, but,  equally,  acts  and  practices  designed  to 
gain  unfair  emolument  at  the  expense  of  the  com- 
munity, or  of  any  class  or  portion  of  its  members.  It 
enjoins  not  merely  the  paying  of  debts  and  the  per- 
formance of  contracts,  but  rigid  fidelity  in  every  trust, 
whether  private  or  public.  Its  ground  is  intrinsic 
fitness  ;  and  a  sense  of  fitness  mil  suggest  its  general 
rules,  and  will  always  enable  one  to  determine  his 
duty  in  individual  cases.  Its  whole  field  may  be 
covered  by  two  precepts,  level  with  the  humblest 
understanding,  and  infallible  in  their  application. 
I^he  first  relates  to  transactions  between  man  and 
man,  —  Do  that,  and  only  that,  which  you  would 
regard  as  just  and  right,  if  it  were  done  to  you. 
The  second  embraces  concerns  that  affect  numbers  or 
classes  of  persons,  —  Do  that,  and  only  that,  which, 
were  you  the  responsible  trustee  and  guardian  of  the 
public  good,  you  would  prescribe  or  sanction  as  just 
and  right. 


HONESTY.  136 

Notwithstanding  the  undoubted  increase  of  dis- 
honesty in  recent  times  and  its  disastrous  frequency, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  majority  of  men  are 
honest,  and  that  the  transactions  in  which  there  is 
v>  deception  or  wrong,  largely  outnumber  those 
which  are  fraudulent.  Were  this  not  so,  there  coald 
be  neither  confidence  nor  credit,  enterprise  would  be 
paralyzed,  business  would  be  reduced  to  the  lowest 
demands  of  absolute  necessity,  and  every  man  would 
be  the  sole  custodian  of  what  he  might  make,  produce, 
or  in  any  way  acquire.  There  can,  therefore,  be  no 
element  more  directly  hostile  to  the  permanence,  not 
to  say  the  progress,  of  material  civilization  and  of  the 
higher  interests  which  depend  upon  it,  than  fraud, 
peculation,  and  the  violation  of  trust,  in  pecuniary 
and  mercantile  affairs,  and  with  reference  to  public 
funds  and  measures.  Yet  there  are  methods,  for 
which  to  a  large  degree  honest  men  are  responsible, 
in  which  dishonesty  is  created,  nourished,  and  re- 
warded. In  political  life,  if  few  office-holders  are 
inaccessible  to  bribes,  it  is  not  because  men  of  im- 
pregnable integrity  might  not,  as  in  earlier  times,  be 
found  in  ample  numbers  for  all  places  of  trust ;  but 
because  the  compromises,  humiliations,  and  conces- 
sions  through  which  alone,  in  many  of  our  constitu- 
encies, one  can  become  the  candidate  of  a  party,  are 
s  .ich  as  an  honest  man  either  would  spurn  at  the  out- 
set, or  could  endure  only  by  parting  with  his  honesty. 
So  long  as  men  will  persist  in  electing  to  municipal 
trusts  those  whose  sole  qualification  is  blind  loyalty 


136  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

and  unscrupulous  service  to  a  party,  they  can  expect 
only  robbery  under  the  form  of  taxation  ;  and,  in 
fact,  the  financial  revelations  that  have  been  made  in 
the  coiLimercial  metropolis  of  our  country  are  typical 
of  what  is  taking  place,  so  far  as  opportunity  serves, 
in  cities,  towns,  and  villages  all  over  the  land.  As 
regards  embezzlements,  forgeries,  and  frauds  in  the 
management  of  pecuniar}^  trusts,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  number  is  greatly  multiplied  by  the 
morbid  sympathy  of  the  public  with  the  criminals,  by 
their  frequent  evasion  of  punishment  or  prompt  par- 
don after  conviction,  and  by  the  ease  with  which  they 
have  often  recovered  their  social  position  and  the 
means  of  maintaining  it. 

In  addition  to  this  complicity  with  fraud  and  wrong 
on  the  part  of  the  public,  there  are  many  ways  in 
which  dishonesty  engenders,  almost  necessitates  dis- 
honesty. A  branch  of  business,  in  itself  honest,  may 
be  virtually  closed  against  an  honest  man.  The 
adulterations  of  food,  so  appallingly  prevalent,  will 
suggest  an  illustration  of  this  point.  There  are  com- 
modities in  which  the  mixture  of  cheaper  ingredients 
cannot  be  detected  by  the  purchaser,  and  which  in 
their  debased  form  can  be  offered  at  so  low  a  price  as 
to  drive  the  genuine  commodities  which  they  replace 
out  of  the  market ;  and  thus  the  alternative  is  pre- 
sented to  the  hitherto  honest  dealer  to  participate 
in  the  fraud,  or  to  quit  the  business.  The  former 
course  is,  no  doubt,  taken  by  many  who  sincerely 
regret  the  seeming  necessity" 


DISHONESTY  A   PUBLIC  INJURY.  137 

Dishonesty  not  only  injures  the  immediate  sufferer 
by  the  fr;iud  or  wrong,  but  when  it  becomes  fre- 
quent, is  a  public  injury  and  calamity.  In  one  way 
or  another  it  alienates  from  the  use  of  every  honest 
man  a  very  large  proportion  of  his  earnings  or  in- 
come. In  this  country,  at  the  present  time,  we  prob- 
abh'  fall  short  of  the  truth  in  saying  that  at  least  a 
third  part  of  every  citizen's  income  is  paid  in  the 
form  of  either  direct  or  indirect  taxation,  and  of  this 
amount  a  percentage  much  larger  than  would  be  read- 
ily believed  is  pillaged  on  its  way  into  the  treasury, 
or  in  its  disbursement.  Then,  as  regards  bad  debts 
(so-called),  most  of  them  fraudulently  contracted  or 
evaded,  they  are  not,  in  general,  the  loss  of  the  im- 
mediate creditor,  nor  ought  they  to  be ;  he  is  obliged 
to  charge  for  his  goods  a  price  which  will  cover  these 
debts,  and  honest  purchasers  must  thus  pay  the  dues 
of  the  insolvent  purchaser.  Nor  is  this  a  solitary  in- 
stance in  which  innocent  persons  are  obliged  to  suffer 
for  wrongs  with  which  they  seem  to  have  no  neces- 
sary connection.  There  are  very  few  exceptions  to 
the  rule,  under  which,  however,  we  have  room  for  but 
one  more  example.  It  is  a  well  known  fact  that 
many  American  railways  have  not  only  cost  very 
much  more  money  than  was  ever  laid  out  upon  thera, 
but  are  made,  by  keeping  the  construction-account 
long  and  generously  open,  to  represent  on  the  books 
of  the  respective  corporations  much  larger  sums  than 
they  cost,  —  especially  in  cases  where  the  enterprise 
is  lucrative  and  the  dividends  are  limited  by  statute. 


V6S  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

Now  m  some  sections  of  our  country  a  triinsaction  oi 
this  kind  —  essentially  fraudulent,  under  however 
respectable  auspices  —  is  a  disastrous  check  on  pro- 
ductive industry  by  the  heavy  freight-tariif  which  it 
imposes,  —  so  heavy  sometimes  as  to  keep  bulky 
commodities,  as  wheat  and  corn,  out  of  the  markets 
where,  at  a  fair  cost  for  transportation,  they  miglit 
find  remunerative  sale.  Thus  the  very  means  de- 
vised for  opening  the  resources  of  a  region  of  country 
may  be  abused  to  their  obstruction  and  hindrance. 
In  fine,  dishonesty  in  all  its  forms  has  a  diffusive 
power  of  injury,  and,  on  the  mere  ground  of  self- 
defence,  demands  the  remonstrance  and  antagonism 
of  the  entire  community. 

While  in  most  departments  of  conduct  there  is  a 
wide  neutral  ground  between  the  right  and  the 
condemnably  wrong,  there  are  matters  of  business 
in  which  there  seems  to  be  no  such  intermediate  terri- 
tory, but  in  which  what  is  fair,  honorable,  and  even 
necessar}',  is  closely  contiguous  to  dishonest}'.  Thus, 
except  m  the  simplest  retail  business,  all  modern  com- 
merce is  speculation,  and  the  line  between  legitimate 
and  dishonest  speculation  is  to  some  minds  difficult 
of  discernment.  Yet  the  discrimination  may  be 
made.  A  man  has  a  right  to  all  that  he  earns  by 
services  to  the  community,  and  these  earnings  may  in 
iiidividual  instances  reach  an  immense  sum.  We  can 
easily  understand  how  this  may  be,  nay,  must  needs 
be  the  case  with  the  very  high  salaries  paid  to  master 
manufacturers.     Such  salaries  would  not  be  paid,  did 


HONEST  PROFITS,  139 

not  the  intelligence,  skill,  and  organizing  capacity  of 
these  men  cheapen  by  a  still  larger  amount  the  com- 
modities made  under  their  direction.  The  case  is 
precisely  similar  with  the  merchant  engaged  in  legiti- 
mate commerce.  By  his  knowledge  of  the  right 
times  and  best  modes  of  purchasing,  by  his  enterprise 
and  sagacity  in  maintaining  intercourse  with  and 
between  distant  markets,  and  by  his  outlay  of  capital 
and  skill  as  a  carrier  of  commodities  from  the  place 
of  their  production  to  the  place  where  they  are 
needed  for  use,  he  cheapens  the  goods  that  pass 
through  his  hands  by  a  greater  amount  than  the  toll 
he  levies  upon  them,  which  —  however  large  —  is  his 
rightful  due. 

Thus  also,  when,  in  anticipation  of  a  scarcity  of 
some  one  commodity,  a  merchant  so  raises  the  price 
as  essentially  t(3  diminish  the  sale,  he  earns  his  in- 
creased profits  ,•  for  an  enhanced  price  is  the  only 
practicable  check  on  consumption.  For  instance,  if 
at  the  actual  rate  of  consumption  the  bread-stuff  on 
hand  would  be  consumed  a  month  before  the  new 
harvest  could  be  made  availing,  no  statistical  state- 
ment could  prevent  the  month  of  famine  ;  but  experi- 
enced grain-merchants  can  adjust  the  price  of  the 
stock  in  hand  so  as  to  induce  precisely  the  amount  of 
economy  which  will  make  that  stock  last  till  it  can  be 
replaced.  They  will,  indeed,  obtain  a  large  profit  on 
their  sales,  and  will  be  accused  by  ignorant  persons 
of  speculating  on  scarcity  and  popular  appiehension  ; 
but  it  will  be  due  wholly  to  their  prescience  that  the 


140  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

scarcity  did  not  become  famine,  and  the  apprehension 
suffering ;  and  they  will  have  merited  for  this  service 
more  than  the  largest  profits  that  can  accrue  to  them. 

The  same  principles  will  apply  to  speculation  in 
stocks,  which  is  in  many  minds  identified  with  dis- 
honest gain.  Stocks  are  marketable  commodities, 
equally  with  sugar  and  salt.  They  are  liable  to 
legitimate  fluctuations  in  value,  their  actual  value 
being  affected,  often  by  facts  that  transpire,  often  by 
opiinons  that  rest  on  assignable  grounds.  Now  if  a 
man  possess  skill  and  foresight  enough  to  buy  stocks 
at  their  lowest  rates  and  to  sell  them  when  they  will 
bring  him  a  profit,  he  makes  a  perfectly  legitimate 
investment  of  his  intelligence  and  sagacity,  and  in 
facilitating  sales  for  those  who  need  to  sell,  and  pur- 
chases for  those  who  wish  to  buy,  and  thus  prevent- 
ing capital  from  lying  unused,  or  remaining  incon- 
vertible at  need,  he  earns  all  that  his  business  yields 
him  by  the  substantial  services  which  he  renders. 

The  legitimate  business  of  the  merchant  and  the 
broker  is  contingent,  as  we  have  seen,  on  fluctua- 
tions in  the  market,  and  he  who  has  tbe  sagacity  to 
foresee  these  fluctuations  and  the  enterprise  to  pre- 
pare for  them,  derives  from  them  advantage  to  which 
he  is  fairly  entitled.  But  it  is  precisely  at  this  point 
that  the  stress  of  temptation  rests,  and  the  opportu- 
nity presents  itself  for  dishonesty  in  ways  of  which 
the  laws  take  no  cognizance,  and  on  which  public 
opinion  is  by  no  means  severe.  The  contingencies 
which  sagacity  can  foresee,  capital   and   credit   can 


RIOHT  AND  WRONG  IN  BUSINESS.  141 

often  create.  Virtual  scarcity  may  be  produced  by 
forestalling  and  monopoly.  When  there  is  no  actual 
dearth,  even  famine-prices  may  be  obtained  for  the 
necessaries  of  life  by  the  skilful  manipulation  of  the 
grain-market.  So,  too,  in  tlie  stock-market,  bonds 
and  shares,  instead  of  being  bought  or  sold  for  what 
they  are  worth,  of  actual  owners  and  to  real  pur- 
chasers, may  be  merely  gambled  with,  —  bought  in 
large  amounts  in  order  to  create  a  demand  that 
shall  swell  their  price,  or  so  thrown  upon  the  mar- 
ket as  to  reduce  their  price  below  their  real  value, 
and  all  this  with  the  sole  purpose  of  mutual  contra- 
vention and  discomfiture.  By  operations  of  this 
kind,  not  only  is  no  useful  end  subserved,  but  the 
financial  interests  and  relations  of  the  community  are 
injuriously,  often  ruinously,  deranged ;  while  not  a 
few  private  holders  of  stock  have  their  credit  essen- 
tially impaired  by  a  sudden  fall  of  price,  or  by  the 
inflation  of  nominal  value  are  led  into  rash  specula- 
tions. 

In  the  cases  cited  it  may  be  seen  how  closely  the 
right  abuts  upon  the  wrong,  so  that  one  may  over- 
pass the  line  almost  unconsciously.  Yet  it  is  be- 
lieved that  a  man  may  determine  for  himself  on  which 
side  of  the  line  he  belongs.  The  department  of  busi- 
ness, or  the  mode  of  transacting  business,  which  can- 
not by  any  possibility  be  of  benefit  to  the  community, 
still  more,  that  which  in  its  general  course  is  of  pos- 
itively injurious  tendency,  is  essentially  dishonest, 
even  though  there  be  no  individual  acts  of  fraud.    He 


142  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 

really  defrauds  the  public  who  lives  upon  the  public 
without  rendering,  or  purposing  to  render  any  valuable 
return  ;  and  if  there  be  any  profession  or  department 
of  business  to  which  this  description  applies,  it  should 
be  avoided  or  forsaken  by  every  man  who  means  fco  be 
honest. 

Among  the  many  mooted  cases  in  which  the  ques- 
tion of  honesty  is  involved,  our  proposed  limits  will 
permit  us  to  consider  only  that  of  usury  ^  (so-called). 
There  can  be  no  doabt  that  usury  laws  and  the  opin- 
ion that  sustains  them  sprang  from  the  false  theory, 
according  to  which  money  was  regarded,  not  as  value, 
but  merely  as  the  measure  of  value.  It  is  now  under- 
stood that  it  owes  its  capacity  to  measure  value  solely 
to  its  own  intrinsic  value  ;  that  its  paper  representa- 
tives can  equal  it  in  purchasing  power  only  when 
convertible  at  pleasure  into  coin  ;  and  that  paper  not 
immediately  convertible  can  obtain  the  character  of 
money  only  so  far  as  there  is  promise  or  hope  of  its 
ultimate  conversion  into  coin.  It  follows  that  money 
stands  on  the  same  footing  with  all  other  values,  — 
that  its  use,  therefore,  is  a  marketable  commodity, 
varying  mdefinitel}^  in  its  fitting  price,  according  as 
money  is  abundant  or  scarce,  the  loan  for  a  long  or  a 
short  period,  and  the  borrower  of  more  or  less  certain 
solvency.  For  ordinary  loans  the  relations  of  supply 
and  demand  are  amply  competent  to  regulate  the  rate 

1  The  odious  meaning  of  excessive  interest,  as  attached  to  utury^  is  of 
comparatively  recent  date.  In  the  earlier  English,  as  in  our  translation  of 
tlie  Bible,  it  denotes  any  sum  given  for  the  use  of  money. 


BENEFICENCL.  14a 

of  interest,  while  lie  who  incurs  an  extra-hazardous 
risk  fairly  earns  a  correspondingly  high  rate  of  com- 
pensation. There  is,  therefore,  no  intrinsic  wrong  in 
one's  obtaining  for  the  use  of  his  money  all  that  it  \a 
worth  ;  and  while  we  cannot  justify  the  violation  of 
anj  laws  not  absolutely  immoral,  dishonesty  forms  no 
part  of  the  offence  of  the  man  who  takes  more  than 
legal  interest.^ 

SECTION   V. 

BENEFICENCE. 

We  have  a  distinct  consciousness  of  the  needs 
of  human  beings.  If  we  have  not  suffered  destitu- 
tion in  our  own  persons,  we  yet  should  deprecate  it. 
What  we  should  dread  others  feel.  The  things  which 
we  find  or  deem  essential  to  our  well-being,  many 
lack.  We,  it  may  be,  possess  them  or  the  means  of 
procuring  them,  beyond  our  power  of  personal  use. 
This  larger  share  of  material  goods  has  come  to  us, 
indeed,  honestly,  by  the  operation  of  laws  inherent 
in  the  structure  of  society,  and  thus,  as  we  believe,  by 
Divine  appointment.  At  the  same  time  we  are  con- 
scious, in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  of  the  benevolent 
affections.  We  are  moved  to  pity  by  the  sight  or 
knowledge   of  want  or   suffering.     Our  sense  of  fit- 

1  In  this  country  usury  laws  are  fast  yielding  to  the  growth  of  intelli 
gence  in  monetary  affairs.  Wherever  they  exist  in  their  severer  forms, 
they  only  enhance  the  rate  of  interest  paid  by  the  major  portion  of  the 
class  of  borrowers,  as  the  lender  must  be  compensated,  not  only  for  the 
ase  of  his  money,  and  for  the  risk  of  his  creditor's  inability  to  repay  it, 
bu*.  aiso  fot  the  additional  risk  of  detection,  ini.-.-t  ui  ii.n.  .ni.l  furlViiiim 


144  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

ness  is  painfully  disturbed  by  the  existence  of  needs 
unsupplied,  of  calamities  unrelieved.  We  cannot  but 
be  aware  of  the  adaptation  of  such  superfluity  of  ma^ 
terial  goods  as  we  may  possess  to  beneficent  uses  ;  and 
it  can  hardly  be  that  we  shall  not  rest  in  the  belief 
that,  in  the  inevitable  order  of  society,  it  is  the  prede- 
termined design  and  purpose  of  abundance  to  supply 
deficiency,  —  of  the  capacity  of  service,  to  meet  the 
ever  pressing  demands  for  service.  Beneficence,  then, 
is  a  duty  based  on  considerations  of  intrinsic  fitness. 

But  beneficence  must  be  actual,  not  merely  for 
mal,  good-doing.  Some  of  the  most  easy  and  ob- 
vious modes  of  supply  or  relief  are  adapted  to  perpe- 
tuate the  very  evils  to  which  they  minister,  either 
by  destroying  self-respect,  by  discouraging  self-help, 
or  by  granting  immunity  to  positively  vicious  habits. 
The  tendency  of  instinctive  kindness  is  to  indiscrim- 
inate  giving.  But  there  can  be  very  few  cases  in 
which  this  is  not  harmful.  It  sustains  mendicants  as 
a  recognized  class  of  society  ;  and  as  such  they  are 
worse  than  useless.  They  necessarily  lose  all  sense  of 
personal  dignity ;  they  remain  ignorant  or  become  in- 
capable of  all  modes  of  regular  industry,  and  it  is  im- 
possible for  them  to  form  associations  that  will  bo 
otherwise  than  degrading  and  corrupting. 

Of  equally  injurious  tendiMuy  are  the  various 
modes  of  relief  at  the  public  charge.  They  affix 
upon  their  beneficiaries  the  indelible  brand  of  pauper- 
ism, which  in  numerous  instances  becomes  hereditary, 
and  in  not  a  few  cases  has  been  transmitted  through 


PUBLIC   RELIEF  AND  PRIVATE  ALMS.       145 

BP.veral  generations.  Experience  has  shown  that  re- 
covery from  a  condition  thus  dependent  is  exceed- 
ingly rare,  even  with  the  young  and  strong,  who,  had 
they  been  tided  over  the  stress  of  need  by  private  and 
judicious  charity,  would  shortly  have  resumed  their 
place  among  the  self -subsisting  members  of  the  com- 
munity. Public  alms,  while  they  are  thus  harmful 
to  their  recipients,  impose  upon  society  a  far  heavier 
burden  than  private  charity.  This  is  due  in  part  to 
the  pei-manent  pauperism  created  by  the  system,  in 
part  to  the  wastefulness  which  characterizes  public 
expenditures  of  every  kind.  By  special  permission  of 
the  national  legislature,  the  experiment  was  tried  in 
Glasgow,  under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  of  sub- 
stituting private  munificence  for  relief  from  the  public 
chest,  in  one  of  the  poorest  territorial  parishes  of  the 
city,  embracing  a  population  of  ten  thousand,  and  the 
result  Avas  the  expenditure  of  little  more  than  one 
third  of  what  had  been  expended  under  legal  author- 
ity. At  the  same  time,  the  poor  and  suffering  were 
80  nmch  more  faithfully  and  kindly  cared  for,  that 
there  was  a  constant  overflow  of  poverty  from  the 
other  districts  of  the  city  into  this.  Publia  charity, 
when  thoroughly  systematized,  is  liable  to  the  still 
stronger  objection,  that  those  who  are  able  to  give 
relief,  in  ceasing  to  feel  the  necessity,  lose  the  will 
and  the  capacity  of  benevolent  effort.  Yet,  were 
there  no  public  provision  for  the  poor,  there  would  be 
cases  of  destitution,  disease,  disability,  and  mentaJ 
imbecility,  which  would  elude  private  charity,  how- 

10 


146  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

ever  diligent  and  generous.  It  must  be  remembered, 
too,  that  the  same  causes  may  at  once  enhance  the 
demand  for  beneficent  aid,  and  cripple  its  resources. 
Thus,  in  a  conflagiration,  a  flood,  a  dearth,  or  a  com,- 
mercial  panic,  while  the  stress  of  need  among  the 
poor  is  greatly  intensified,  the  persons  on  whose  char- 
ity under  ordinary  circumstances,  they  could  place 
the  most  confident  reliance,  may  be  among  the  chief 
sufferers.  Thus,  also,  during  the  prevalence  of  infec- 
tious disease,  a  large  proportion  of  those  who  are  wont 
to  perform  the  ofiices  of  humanity  for  the  suffering,  are 
withdrawn  by  their  own  fears,  or  those  of  their  friends, 
from  their  wonted  field  of  service.  Then,  too,  there 
are  various  forms  of  disease  and  infirmity,  which  de 
mand  special  treatment  or  a  permanent  asylum ;  and 
while  institutions  designed  to  meet  these  wants  are 
more  wisely  and  economically  administered  under  pri- 
vate than  under  public  auspices,  the  state  should  never 
suffer  them  to  fail  or  languish  for  lack  of  subsidy 
from  private  sources.  The  most  desirable  condition 
of  things  undoubtedly  is  that  —  more  nearly  real- 
ized in  France  than  in  any  other  country  in  Christen- 
dom —  in  which  the  relief  of  the  poor  and  suffering 
in  ordinary  cases,  and  the  charge  of  charitable  insti- 
tutions to  a  large  degree,  are  left  to  individuals,  vol- 
untary organizations,  and  religious  fraternities  and 
sisterhoods,  while  government  supplements  and  sub- 
sidizes private  charity  whe  e  it  is  found  inadequate  to 
the  need 

The  demands  upon  beneficence  are  by  no  meaufl 


BENEFICENCE  IN  DAILY  LIFE.  147 

exhausted,  when  material  relief  and  aid  have  been  be- 
stowed. Indeed,  alms  are  often  given  as  a  purchase 
of  quitclaim  for  personal  service.  But  the  manifes- 
tation and  expression  of  sympathy  may  make  the  gift 
of  unmeasurably  more  worth  and  efficacy.  Consider- 
ate courtesy,  delicacy,  and  gentleness  are  essential 
parts  of  beneficence.  There  are  very  few  so  abject 
that  they  do  not  feel  insulted  and  degraded  by  what 
is  coldly,  grudgingly,  superciliously,  or  chidingly  be- 
stowed ;  while  the  thoughtful  tenderness  which  never 
forgets  the  sensibilities  of  those  whom  it  relieves,  in- 
spires comfort,  hope,  and  courage,  arouses  whatever 
capacity  there  may  be  of  self-help,  and  is  often  the 
means  of  replacing  the  unfortunate  in  the  position 
from  which  they  have  fallen. 

Beneficence  has  a  much  broader  scope  than  the 
mere  relief  of  the  poor  and  suffering.  In  the  daily 
intercourse  of  life  there  are  unnumbered  opportunities 
for  kindness,  many  of  them  slight,  yet  in  their  ag- 
gregate, of  a  magnitude  that  eludes  all  computation. 
There  is  hardly  a  transaction,  an  interview,  a  casual 
wayside  meeting,  in  which  it  is  not  in  the  power  of 
each  person  concerned  to  contribute  in  an  appreciable 
degree  to  the  happiness  or  the  discomfort  of  those 
whom  he  thus  meets,  or  with  whom  he  is  brought  into 
a  relation  however  transient.  In  aU  our  movements 
among  our  fellow-men,  it  is  possible  for  us  to  "  go  about 
doing  good."  What  we  can  thus  do  we  are  bound  to  do. 
We  perceive  and  feel  that  this  is  fitting  for  us  as  so- 
cial and  as  mutually  dependent  beings.     W^e  are  con- 


148  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

ftcious  of  the  benefit  accruing  to  us  from  little,  name* 
less  attentions  and  courtesies,  often  of  mere  look,  or 
manner,  or  voice  ;  and  from  these  experiences  we  infer 
that  the  possibility,  and  therefore  the  duty  of  bene- 
ficence is  coextensive  with  our  whole  social  fife. 

The  measure  of  beneficence,  prescribed  for  us  on 
the  most  sacred  authority,  "  All  things  whatsoever 
ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so 
to  them,"  needs  only  to  be  stated  to  be  received  as 
authentic.  It  supplies  a  measure  for  our  expectations 
also,  as  well  as  for  our  duties.  We  have  a  right  to 
expect  from  others  as  much  courtesy,  kindness,  ser- 
vice as,  were  they  in  our  place  and  we  in  theirs,  we 
should  feel  bound  to  render  to  them,  —  a  rule  which 
would  often  largely  curtail  our  expectations,  and  in 
the  same  proportion  tone  down  our  disappointments 
and   imagined  grievances. 

There  is  another  scriptural  precept,  "  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,"  which  might  at  first 
sight  seem  impracticable,  yet  which,  as  we  shall  see 
on  closer  examination,  represents  not  only  a  possible 
attainment,  but  one  toward  which  all  who  heartily 
desire  and  love  to  do  good  are  tending.  There  are 
various  conditions  under  which,  confessedly,  human 
beings  love  others  as  well  as  themselves,  or  better. 
What  else  can  we  say  of  the  mother's  love  for  her 
child,  for  whose  well-being  she  would  make  any  con- 
ceivable sacrifice,  nay,  were  there  need,  would  surren- 
der life  itself  ?  Have  we  not  also  sometimes  witnessed 
a   filial  devotion  equally  entire  and   self -forget  ting  7 


LOVE   OF  ENEMIES.  14$ 

Nor  are  instances  wanting,  in  which  brothers  and  sis 
ters,  or  friends  who  had   no  bonds  of  consanguinity 
have  showT  by  unmistakable  deeds  and  sufferings  thr ' 
their  love  for  one  another  was  at  least  equal  to  thei 
self-love.     This  same  love  for  others,  as  for  himself 
is  manifested  by  the  self -devoting  patriot,  the  prac 
tical  philanthropist,  the  Christian  missionary.     TheF 
is  ample  ground   for  it  in  the  theory  of    humanity 
which  forms  a  part  of  our  accustomed  religious  utter- 
ance.    We  call  our  fellow-men  our  brethren,  as  chil- 
dren of  the  same  Father.     So  far  as  sayings  like  these 
are  sentiments,  and  not  mere  words,  there  must  be 
in  our  feelings  and  conduct  toward  and  for  our  fel- 
l(>w-men  in  general  a  kindness,  forbearance,  self-for- 
getfulness,  and  self-sacrifice  similar  to  that  of  which, 
toward  our  near  kindred,  we  would  not  confess  our 
selves  incapable.    Here  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
the  precepts  of  Christianity  represent  the  perfection 
which  should  be  our  constant  aim  and  our  only  goal, 
not  the  stage  of  attainment  which  we  are  conscious 
of  having  reached,  or  of  being  able  to  reach  with 
little  effort. 

The  love  of  enemie^  is  also  enjoined  upon  us  by 
Jesus  Christ.  Is  this  possible  ?  Why  not  ?  There 
are  cases  where  one's  nearest  kindred  are  his  worst 
enemies  ;  and  we  have  known  instances  in  which  love 
has  survived  this  rudest  of  all  trials.  Were  the  Chris- 
tian idea  of  universal  brotlierhood  a  profound  senti- 
ment, it  would  not  be  quenched  by  enmity,  however 
bitter.  Enmity  toward  ourselves  need  not  affect  oui 


150  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

estimate  of  one's  actual  merit  or  claims.  If  we  should 
not  think  the  worse  of  a  man  because  he  was  the 
enemy  of  some  one  else,  why  should  we  think  tlie 
worse  of  him  because  he  is  our  enemy  ?  He  may  have 
micjtaken  our  character  and  our  dispositions  ;  and  if 
so,  is  he  more  culpable  for  this  than  for  any  other  mis- 
take ?  Or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has  some  substan- 
tial reason  for  disliking  us,  we  should  either  remove 
the  cause,  or  submit  to  the  dislike  without  feeling  ag- 
grieved by  it.  At  any  rate  we  can  obey  the  precept, 
"  Do  good  to  them  that  hate  you  ; "  and  this  is  the 
only  way,  and  an  almost  infallible  way,  in  which  the 
enmity  may  be  overcome,  and  superseded  by  relations 
of  mutual  kindness  and  friendship 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FORTITUDE;    OR    DUTIES  WITH    REFERENCE    TO 
UNAVOIDABLE  EVILS   AND   SUFFERINGS. 

^HERE  are,  in  almost  every  prolonged  human  ex- 
perience, privations  and  sufferings  to  be  endured, 
disappointments  to  be  submitted  to,  obstacles  and 
difl&culties  to  be  surmounted  and  overcome.  From 
whatever  source  these  elements  of  experience  proceed, 
even  if  from  blind  chance,  or  from  fate  (which  de- 
notes the  utterance  or  decree  of  arbitrary  and  irrespon- 
sible power),  the  strong  man  will  brace  himself  up  to 
bear  them  ;  the  wise  man  will  shape  his  conduct  by 
them ;  the  man  of  lofty  soul  will  rise  above  them. 
But  the  temper  in  which  they  will  be  borne,  yielded 
to,  or  surmounted,  must  be  contingent  on  the  behef 
concerning  them.  If  they  are  regarded  as  actual  evils, 
they  will  probably  be  endured  with  sullenness,  or 
submitted  to  with  defiance  and  scorn,  or  surmounted 
with  pride  and  self-inflation.  Even  in  the  wi'itings  of 
the  later  Stoics,  which  abound  in  edifying  precepts  of 
fortitude  and  courage  under  trial,  there  is  an  under- 
tone of  defiance,  as  if  the  sufferer  were  contending 
with  a  hostile  force,  and  a  constant  tendency  to  extol 
and  almost  deify  the  energy  of  soul  which  the  good 
man  displays  in  fightmg  with  a  hard  destiny.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  physical  evils  are  regarded  as  wise  and 


162  MORAL  PHILOlSUPJdY, 

benign  appointments  of  the  Divine  love  and  father- 
hood, the  spirit  in  which  they  are  borne  and  struggled 
against  is  characterized  by  tenderness,  meekness,  hu- 
mility, trust,  and  hope.  It  is  instructive  in  this  re- 
gard to  read  alternately  the  Stoics  and  St.  Paul,  and 
to  contrast  their  magnanimous,  but  grim  and  stern 
resignation,  with  the  jubilant  tone  in  which,  a  hundred 
times  over,  and  with  a  vast  variety  of  gladsome  utter- 
ance, he  repeats  the  sentiment  contained  in  those 
words,  "  As  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing."  As 
ours  is  the  Christian  theory  as  to  the  (so-called)  evils 
of  human  life,  we  shall  recognize  it  in  our  treatment 
of  the  several  virtues  comprehended  under  the  gen- 
eral title  of  Fortitude. 

SECTION  1. 
PATIENCE.  1 

Patience  is  incumbent  on  us,  only  under  inevita- 
ble sufferings  or  hardships,  or  under  such  as  are  in- 
curred in  the  discharge  of  manifest  duty,  or  for  the 
benefit  of  our  fellow-men.  Needless  sufferings  or  pri- 
vations we  are  bound  to  shun  or  to  escape,  not  to 
bear.     The  caution  and  foresight  by  which  they  may 

1  The  reader  need  not  be  told  thai  patience  a.nd  passion  are  derived  from 
different  participles  of  the  same  verb.  Patience  comes  from  the  present 
participle,  and  fitlngly  denotes  the  spirit  in  which  present  suffering  should 
be  met ;  while  passion  comes  from  the  perfect  or  past  participle,  and  aa 
fittingly  denotes  the  condition  ensuing  upon  any  physical,  mental,  or  mora) 
affection,  induced  from  without,  which  has  been  endured  without  protest 
or  resietance. 


PATIENCE.  158 

be  evaded  hold  an  essential  place  among  the  duties  of 
prudence.  Nor  doer  reason  or  religion  sanction  self- 
imposed  burdens  or  hardships  of  any  kind,  whether 
in  penance  for  wrong-doing,  as  a  means  of  purchas- 
ing the  Divine  favor,  or  as  a  mode  of  spiritual  disci- 
phne. 

Patience  implies  serenity,  cheerfulness,  and  hope- 
fulness, under  burdens  and  trials.  It  must  be  distin- 
guished from  apathy,  which  is  a  temperament,  not  a 
virtue.  There  are  some  persons  whose  sensibilities 
are  so  sluggish  that  they  are  incapable  of  keen  suffer- 
ing, and  of  profound  and  lasting  sorrow.  We  can 
hardly  call  this  a  desirable  temperament ;  for  its  ca- 
pacity of  enjoyment  is  equally  defective,  and,  as  there 
is  more  happiness  than  misery  in  almost  every  life,  he 
whose  susceptibility  of  both  pain  and  pleasure  is  quick 
and  strong  is,  on  the  whole,  the  gainer  thereby.  The 
serenity  of  patience  requires  vigorous  self-command. 
It  is  essential,  first  of  all,  to  control,  and  as  far  as 
possible  to  suppress,  the  outward  tokens  of  pain  and 
grief.  They,  like  all  modes  of  utterance,  deepen  the 
feeling  they  express  ;  while  a  firm  and  self-contained 
bearing  enhances  the  fortitude  which  it  indicates. 
Control  must  also  be  exercised  over  the  thoughts,  that 
they  be  abstracted  from  the  painful  experience,  and 
employed  on  themes  that  will  fill  and  task  them. 
Mental  industry  is  the  best  relief  that  mere  philos- 
ophy has  for  pain  and  sorrow:  and  though  it  cer- 
tainly is  not  a  cure,  it  never  fails  to  be  of  service  as 
a  palliative.      Even  when  bodily  distress  or  infirmity 


164  MOltAL  PHiroSOPHY. 

renders  continuous  thought  impossible,  the  effort  of 
recollection,  or  the  employment  of  the  mind  in  mat- 
ters too  trivial  for  its  exercise  in  health,  may  reheve 
the  weariness  and  lighten  the  stress  of  suffering.  Nor 
let  devices  of  this  sort  be  deemed  unworthy  of  a  place 
even  among  duties  ;  for  they  are  often  essential  means 
to  ends  of  high  importance.  They  assert  and  main 
tain  the  rightful  supremacy  of  the  mind  over  the 
body  ;  they  supersede  that  morbid  brooding  upon 
painful  experiences  which  generates  either  melancholy 
or  querulousness  ;  and  they  leave  in  the  moral  nature 
an  unobstructed  entrance  to  all  soothing  and  elevat- 
ing influences. 

Cheerfulness  in  the  endurance  of  pain  and  hardship 
must  result  in  great  part  from  the  belief.  If  I  regard 
myself  as  irresistibly  subject  to  an  automatic  Nature, 
whose  wheels  may  bruise  or  crush  me  at  any  moment, 
I  know  not  why  or  how  I  could  be  cheerful,  even  in 
such  precarious  health  or  prosperity  as  might  faL  to 
my  lot  ;  and  there  could  certainly  be  no  reassuring 
aspect  to  my  adverse  fortune.  But  if  I  believe  that 
under  a  fatherly  Providence  there  can  be  no  suffering 
without  its  ministry  of  mercy,  no  loss  without  its 
greater  gain  within  my  reach  and  endeavor,  no  hard- 
ship without  its  reflex  benefit  in  inward  growth  and 
energy,  then  I  can  take  and  bear  the  inevitable  bur- 
dens of  this  earthly  life  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  I 
often  assume  burdens  not  impased  upon  me  from 
without,  for  the  more  than  preponderant  benefit  which 
I  hope  to  derive  from  them.     But  if  I  have  this  faith 


HOPE  ESSENTIAL    TO  PATIENCE  166 

in  a  benignant  Providence  "s^hich  will  not  afflict  me 
uselessly,  I  am  under  obligation  not  tc  let  my  faith, 
if  real,  remain  inactive  in  my  seasons  of  pain,  loss,  or 
grief.  I  am  bound  so  to  ponder  on  my  assured  be- 
lief, and  on  such  proofs  of  it  as  may  he  in  my  past 
experience,  that  it  shall  give  its  hue  to  my  condition, 
its  tone  to  my  thought,  its  direction  to  the  whole 
current  of  my  sentiment  and  feeling.  Thus  may  en- 
durance be  not  only  calm,  but  cheerful,  because  per- 
vaded by  the  conviction  that  at  the  heart  of  all  that 
seems  evil  there  is  substantial  good. 

Yet,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  there  are  life-long 
burdens  and  griefs,  —  incurable  illnesses,  irretrievable 
losses,  bereavements  that  will  never  cease  to  be  felt, 
and  cannot  be  replaced.  Especially  in  advanced 
years  there  are  infirmities,  disabilities,  and  privations, 
which  cannot  by  any  possibility  have  a  resultant  rev- 
enue equivalent  to  what  they  take  from  us  ;  for  in  old 
age  the  growth  of  character  is  too  slow  to  be  worth 
the  sacrifice  which  in  earlier  life  may  be  more  than 
compensated  by  the  consciousness  of  spiritual  enlarge- 
ment and  increase.  How  shall  these  burdens  be 
borne  cheerfully  ?  They  cannot,  unless  they  be  also 
borne  hopefully.  But  if  there  be  presented  to  the 
faith,  beyond  the  earthly  life,  a  future,  the  passage 
into  which  is  to  be  made  the  easier  by  loss  and  sorrow 
here  ;  if  families  are  there  to  be  reunited,  and  void 
places  in  the  affections  filled  again  ;  if  worthy  hopes, 
seemingly  disappointed,  are  only  postponed  for  a 
richer  and  happier  fulfilment,  —  there  is  in  that  fu- 


166  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 

ture  exhaustless  strength  for  solace  and  support  under 
what  must  be  endured  here.  Earthly  trial  must  seem 
light  aud  momentary  in  view  of  perfect  and  eternal 
happiness ;  and  thus  the  hope  that  lays  hold  on  an 
infinite  domain  of  being  is  coined  into  utilities  for  the 
daily  needs  of  the  tried,  suffering,  afficted,  and  age- 
bowed,  supplying  to  patience  an  element  without 
which  it  cannot  be  made  perfect. 


SECTION  II. 

SUBMISSION. 

There  are  events,  seemingly  adverse,  which  in 
themselves  are  transient,  and  inflict  no  permanent  dis- 
comfort, but  which  necessitate  the  surrender  of  cher- 
ished expectations,  the  change  of  favorite  plans,  it 
may  be,  the  hfe-long  abandonment  of  aims  and  hopes 
that  had  held  the  foremost  place  in  the  anticipated 
future.  Here  submission  of  some  sort  is  a  necessity. 
But  the  submission  may  be  querulous  and  repining ; 
it  may  be  bitter  and  resentful ;  it  may  be  stern  and 
rigid.  In  the  last  of  these  types  only  can  there  be 
any  semblance  of  virtue :  and  this  last  can  be  vir- 
tuous, only  where  inevitable  events  are  attributed  to 
Fate,  and  not  to  Providence.  But  if  a  wise  and  kind 
Providence  presides  over  human  affairs,  its  decrees 
are  our  directorj^  The  very  events  which  hedge  in, 
mark  out  our  way.  The  tree  which  has  its  upward 
growth  cliecked  spreads  its  branches ;  that  which  is 


SUBMISSION  AN  ACTIVE    VIRTUE.  167 

circumscribed    in   its    lateral   expansion    attains    the 
greater  hoiglit.     The  tendrils  of  the  vine  are  guided 
by  the  very  obstacles  placed   in  its  way.     Thus,  in 
human  life,  impassable  barriers  in  one  direction  pre- 
scribe  aims  and  endeavors   in  a  different   direction. 
The  things  that  we  cannot  do  determine  the  things 
that  we  ought  to  do.     The  growth  which  is  impeded 
must  give  place  to  growth  of  a  different  type,  and  to 
us  undoubtedly  more  wholesome,  more  congenial  with 
our  capacities,  more  conducive  to  our  true  well-being. 
What   seem  obstacles    may  be    supports,  giving    the 
best  possible  direction  to  our  active  powers,  and  so 
training  our  desires  and  affections  as  to  lead  to  higher 
happiness  and  more  substantial  good  than  could  have 
otherwise  been  attained. 

Submission,  then,  must  be  grounded  in  faith. 
The  inevitable  must  be  to  us  the  appointment  of  Om- 
niscient Love.  In  our  childhood  the  very  regimen  and 
discipline  that  were  least  to  our  taste  proceeded  often 
from  the  wisest  counsels,  and  in  due  time  we  acqui- 
esced in  them  as  judicious  and  kind,  nor  would  we  in 
the  retrospect  have  had  them  otherwise.  As  little  as 
we  then  knew  what  was  best  for  our  well-being  in  the 
nearer  future,  we  may  novr  know  as  to  what  is  best 
for  us  i  a  a  remote  future,  whether  in  the  present  or 
in  a  higher  state  of  being.  All  that  remains  for  us  is 
acquiescence,  cheerful  and  hopeful,  in  a  Wisdom  that 
cannot  err,  in  a  Love  which  can  will  only  the  best  of 
which  we  are  capable. 

Submission  is  not  merely  a  passive,  but  equally 


158  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

an  active  virtue.     Inevitable  events  impose  imper- 
ative  duties.     In  the  direction  which    they  indicate 
thrre  is  work  for  us,  of  self -culture,  of  kindness,  of 
charity.     Our  characters  can    be  developed,  not  by 
}ielding,  however  cheerfully,  to  what   seem   misfor- 
tunes, but  by  availing  ourselves  of  the  opportunities 
which  they  present,  in  place  of  those  of  which  they 
have   deprived   us.      When    the   way    we    had   first 
chosen  is  barred  against  us,  we  are  not  to  lie  still,  but 
to  move  onward  with  added  diligence  on  the  way  that 
is  thus  opened  to  us.     If  outward  success  is  arrested 
and  reverted,  there  is  only  the  more  reason  for  im- 
proving the  staple   of   our  inward  being.     If   those 
dearest  to  us  have  passed  beyond  the  reach  of  our 
good  offices,  there  are  the  more  remote  that  may  be 
brought   near,  and   made    ours,  by  our  beneficence. 
If  our  earthly  life  is  rendered  desolate,  the  affections, 
hopes,  and  aims  th^is  unearthed  may  by  our  spiritual 
industry  and  thrift  be  trained  heavenward.     All  this 
is  included  in  full  submission  to  the  will  of  the  Divine 
providence  ;  for  that  will  is  not  our  loss,  disappoint- 
ment, or  suffering,  but  our  growth,  by  means  of  it,  in 
quantity  of  mental  and  spiritual  life,  in   capacity  of 
duty,  and  in  the  power  of  usefulness. 

SECTION  III. 
COURAGE. 

Patience,  as  its  name  imports,  is  a  passive  quality  ; 
Submission  blends  the  passive  and  the  active ;   while 


PHYSICAL    COURAGE.  159 

Courage  is  preeminently  an  active  virtue.  Patience 
resigns  itseK  to  what  must  be  endured ;  submission 
conforms  itself  to  what  it  gladly  would,  but  cannot 
leverse;  courage  resists  what  it  cannot  evade,  sur- 
mounts what  it  cannot  remove,  and  declines  no  con- 
flict in  which  it  is  honorable  to  engage.  It  is  obvious 
that  the  occasions  for  these  virtues  are  widely  differ- 
ent. Patience  has  its  place  where  calm  and  cheerful 
endurance  is  the  only  resource  ;  submission,  where 
there  must  be  voluntary  seK-adaptation  to  altered 
circumstances ;  courage,  where  there  is  threatened 
evil  which  strenuous  effort  can  avert,  mitigate,  or 
subdue. 

Courage  is  a  virtue,  only  when  it  is  a  necessity. 
There  is  no  merit  in  seeking  danger,  in  exciting  op- 
position, in  courting  hostility.  Indeed,  conduct  of 
this  description  more  frequently  proceeds  from  per- 
sons who  know  themselves  cowards  and  fear  to  be 
thought  so,  than  from  those  who  are  actually  pos- 
sessed of  courage.  .  But  there  are  perils,  encounters, 
enmities,  which  cannot  by  any  possibility  be  avoided, 
and  there  are  others  which  can  be  avoided  only  by 
the  sacrifice  of  principle,  or  by  the  surrender  of  op- 
portunities for  doing  good,  and  which,  therefore,  to  a 
virtuous  man  are  inevitable. 

The  physical  courage,  commonly  so  called,  which 
13  prompt  and  fearless  in  the  presence  of  imminent 
danger,  or  in  armed  conflict  with  enemies,  may  be,  or 
may  not  be,  a  virtue.  It  may  proceed  from  a  mind 
too  shallow  and  frivolous  to  appreciate  the  worth  of 


160  Mor.AL  rniLc SOPHY. 

life  or  the  magnitude  of  the  peril  that  threatens  it ; 
it  may,  as  often  in  the  case  of  veteran  soldiers,  be  the 
result  of  discipline  without  the  aid  of  principle ;  or  it 
may  depend  wholly  on  intense  and  engrossing  excite- 
ment, so  that  he  who  would  march  fearlessly  at  the 
head  of  a  forlorn  hope  might  quail  before  a  solitary 
foe.  But  if  one  be,  in  the  face  of  peril,  at  the  same 
time  calm  and  resolute,  self-collected  and  firm,  cau- 
tious and  bold,  fully  aware  of  all  that  he  must  en- 
counter and  unfalteringly  brave  in  meeting  it,  such 
courage  is  a  high  moral  attainment.  Its  surest  som-ce 
is  trust  in  the  Divine  providence,  —  the  fixed  convic- 
tion that  the  inevitable  cannot  be  otherwise  than  of 
benignant  purpose  and  ministry,  though  that  purpose 
may  be  developed  and  that  ministry  effected  only  in 
a  higher  state  of  being.  To  this  faith  must  be  added 
a  strong  sense  of  one's  manhood,  and  of  his  superiority 
by  virtue  of  that  manhood  over  all  external  surround- 
ings and  events.  We  are  conscious  of  a  rightful  su- 
premacy over  the  outward  world,  and  deem  it  un- 
worthy to  succumb,  without  internecine  resistance,  to 
any  force  by  which  we  may  be  assailed,  whether  that 
force  be  a  power  of  nature  or  a  wi'ongful  assault  from 
a  fellow-man.  It  is  the  presence  of  this  consciousness 
that  wins  our  admiration  for  all  genuine  heroism,  and 
the  absence  of  it  at  the  moment  of  need  that  makes 
cowardice  contemptible. 

There  is  a  moral  courage  required  in  pursuing  oiir 
legitimate  course  in  life,  or  in  discharging  our  man- 
ifest  duty,  notwithstanding  straitnesseSj  hindrances. 


MORAL    COURAGE.  161 

obstacles,  to  which  the  feeble  and  timid  could  not  but 
yield.  The  constituent  elements  of  this  type  of  cour- 
age are  precisely  the  same  that  are  needed  in  the  en- 
counter with  physical  peril.  In  both  cases  it  is 
equally  unmanly  to  succumb  until  we  have  resisted  to 
the  utmost.  But  while  physical  courage  can  at  best 
only  insure  our  safety,  moral  courage  contributes  es- 
sentially to  the  growth  of  mind  and  character ;  and 
the  larger  the  opportunity  for  its  exercise,  the  greater 
will  be  the  mass  of  mind,  the  quantity  of  character, 
the  power  of  duty  and  of  usefulness.  Straitnesses 
develop  richer  resources  than  they  bar.  Hindrances 
nurture  hardihood  of  spirit  in  the  struggle  against 
them,  or  in  the  effort  to  neutralize  them.  Obstacles, 
when  surmounted,  give  one  a  higher  position  than 
could  be  attained  on  an  unobstructed  path.  The 
school  of  difficulty  is  that  in  which  we  have  our  most 
efficient  training  for  eminence,  whether  of  capacity  or 
of  moral  excellence.  What  are  accounted  inevitable 
evils  are,  when  met  with  courage,  only  benefits  and 
blessings,  inasmuch  as  they  bring  into  full  and  vig- 
orous exercise  the  hardier  muscles  and  sinews  of  the 
inner  man,  to  measure  strength  with  them  or  to  rise 
above  them. 

Courage  is  needed  in  the  profession  and  mainte- 
nance of  the  true  and  the  right,  when  denied,  assailed, 
or  vilipended.  Communities  never  move  abreast  in 
the  progress  of  opinion.  There  are  always  pioneer 
minds  and  consciences ;  and  the  men  who  are  in  ad- 
vance of  their  time  must  encounter  obloquy  at  least, 
11 


162  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

often  persecution,  loss,  hardship,  sometimes  legal  pen- 
alties and  disabilities.  Under  such  circumstances, 
there  are  doubtless  many  more  tliat  inwardly  ac- 
knowledge the  unpopular  truth  or  the  cuu tested  right, 
than  there  are  who  are  willing  to  avow  and  defend 
their  belief.  Many  are  frightened  uito  false  utterance 
or  deceptive  silence.  But  there  must  be  in  such 
minds  a  conscious  mendacity,  fatal  to  their  own  self- 
respect,  and  in  the  highest  degree  detrimental  to  their 
moral  selfhood.  It  demands  and  at  the  same  time 
nurtures  true  greatness  of  soul  to  withstand  the  cur- 
rent of  general  opinion,  to  defy  popular  prejudice,  to 
make  one's  self  "  of  no  reputation  "  in  order  to  pre- 
serve his  integrity  unimpaired.  Therefore  is  it  that, 
in  the  lapse  of  time,  the  very  men  who  have  been 
held  in  the  lowest  esteem  rise  into  eminence  in  the 
general  regard,  sometimes  while  they  are  still  living, 
often er  with  a  succeeding  generation.  Martyrs  in 
their  day,  they  receive  the  crown  of  martyrdom  when 
the  work  which  they  commenced  is  consummated. 
The  history  of  all  the  great  reforms  which  have  been 
successive  eras  in  the  moral  progress  of  Christendom 
is  full  of  names,  once  dishonored,  now  among  the 
foremost  of  their  race. 

This  type  of  courage  has,  in  less  enlightened  ages 
than  our  own,  been  made  illustrious  by  those  who 
have  sacrificed  life  rather  than  deny  or  suppress 
beliefs  which  they  deemed  of  vital  moment.  It  can 
tiardly  be  anticipated  that  the  civilized  world  vah 
recede   so  far  into  barbarism  as  to  hght  again   th 


THE    COURAGE   OF  PHILANTHROPY.  168 

deatli-flame  of  persecution  ;  but  it  may  be  questioned 
whether  the  chronic  sacrifice  of  all  which  men  most 
desire  in  life  requires  or  manifesLb  less  of  heroism  than 
in  earlier  times  furnished  victims  for  the  arena  or  the 
stake. 

In  the  mora^  hierarchy  the  first  rank  is  probably 
due  to  the  courage  that  inspires  and  sustains  ardu- 
ous and  perilous  philanthropic  enterprise.  The 
martyr  for  opinion  suffers  or  dies  rather  than  stain 
his  soul  with  the  positive  guilt  of  falsehood  ;  while 
the  philanthropist  might  evade  toil  and  danger  with- 
out committing  any  actual  sin,  or  making  himself 
liable  to  censure  or  disapproval  either  from  God  or 
man.  In  the  former  case,  hardship  or  danger  is  ren- 
dered inevitable  by  the  felt  necessity  of  self-respect ; 
in  the  latter,  by  the  urgency  of  a  love  for  man  equal 
or  superior  to  the  love  for  seK.  As  examples  of 
this  highest  type  of  courage,  it  may  suffice  to  name 
Howard,  whose  labors  for  prison-reform  were  pursued 
at  the  well-known  risk  and  the  ultimate  cost  of  his 
life ;  Florence  Nightingale  and  the  noble  sisterhood 
inaugurated  by  her,  who  have  won  all  the  untarnished 
and  undisputed  laurels  of  recent  wars  on  both  sides  of 
the  Atlantic ;  and  the  Christian  missionaries  to  sav- 
asre  tribes  and  in  pestilential  climates,  who  have  often 
gone  to  their  work  with  as  clear  a  consciousness  o.^ 
deadly  peril  as  if  they  had  been  on  their  way  to  a 
battle-field. 


OHAPTER  XII. 

ORDER;   OR  DUTIES  AS   TO   OB.TECTS  UNDER 
ONE'S   OWN   CONTROL. 

^PHERE  are  many  duties  that  are  seK-defined  and 
seK-limited.  Thus,  the  ordinary  acts  of  justice  and 
many  of  the  charities  of  daily  life  include  in  them- 
selves the  designation  of  time,  place,  and  measure. 
There  are  other  duties,  of  equal  obligation,  which 
admit  of  wide  variance  as  to  these  particulars,  but 
which  can  be  most  worthily  and  efficiently  performed 
only  when  reference  is  had  to  them.  There  are,  also, 
many  acts,  in  themselves  morally  indifferent,  which 
acquire  their  moral  character  as  right  or  wrong  solely 
from  one  or  more  of  these  particulars.  Thus  recrea- 
tions that  are  innocent  and  fitting  on  Saturday,  may 
be  inconsistent  with  the  proprieties  of  Sunday  ;  con- 
versation and  conduct  perfectly  befitting  the  retire- 
ment of  home  may  be  justly  offensive  in  a  place  of 
pubUc  concourse ;  or  there  may  be  great  guilt  in  the 
excessive  use  of  that  which  used  in  moderation  may 
be  blameless,  fitting,  and  salutary. 


DISTRIBUTION  OF  TIME  165 

SECTION   I. 

TIME. 

A  life-time  is  none  too  long  for  a  life's  work. 
Hence  the  fitness,  and  therefore  the  duty,  of  a  careful 
economy  of  time.  This  economy  can  be  secured  only 
by  a  systematic  arrangement  of  one's  hours  of  labor, 
relaxation,  and  rest,  and  the  assignment  to  successive 
portions  of  the  day,  week,  or  year,  of  their  appropriate 
uses.  The  amount  of  time  wasted,  even  by  an  indus- 
trious man  who  has  no  method  or  order  in  his  indus- 
try, bears  a  very  large  proportion  to  the  time  profit- 
ably employed.  In  the  needlessly  frequent  change 
of  occupations,  there  is  at  each  beginning  and  ending 
a  loss  of  the  working  power,  which  can  neither  start 
on  a  new  career  at  full  speed,  nor  arrest  itself  with- 
out previous  slackening.  This  waste  is  made  still 
greater  by  the  suspense  or  vacillation  of  purpose  of 
those  who  not  only  have  no  settled  plans  of  industry, 
but  often  know  not  what  to  do,  or  are  liable,  so  soon 
as  they  are  occupied  in  one  way,  to  feel  themselves 
irresistibly  drawn  in  a  different  direction. 

But  in  the  distribution  of  time  a  man  should  be 
the  master,  not  the  slave  of  his  system.  The  reg- 
ular work  and  the  actual  duty  of  the  moment  do  not 
always  coincide.  Due  care  for  health,  the  opportu- 
nity for  earned  and  needed  recreation,  fche  claims 
of  charity,  courtesy,  and  hospitality,  in  fine,  the  im- 
mediate urgency  of  any  duty  selfward,  manward,  or 


166  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 

Godward,  should  always  take  precedence  of  routine- 
work  however  wisely  planned.  Obstinate  adherence 
to  system  may  lead  to  more  and  greater  criminal 
omissions  of  duty  than  would  be  incurred,  even  in  the 
spasmodic  industry  which  takes  its  impulse  from  the 
passing  moment.  It  must  be  remembered  that  time- 
liness is  the  essential  element  of  right  and  obligation 
in  many  things  that  ought  to  be  done,  especially  in 
all  forms  of  charity,  ahke  in  great  services,  and  in 
those  lesser  amenities  and  kindnesses  which  contribute 
so  largely  to  the  charm  of  society  and  the  happiness 
of  domestic  life.  There  are  many  good  offices  which, 
performed  too  late,  were  better  left  undone,  —  cour- 
tesies which,  postponed,  are  incivilities,  —  attentions 
which,  out  of  season,  are  needless  and  wearisome. 

Every  day,  every  waking  hour  has  its  own  duty, 
either  its  special  work,  or  its  due  portion  of  one's  nor- 
mal life-work.  Procrastination  is,  therefore,  as  un- 
wise as  it  is  immoral,  or  rather,  it  is  immoral  because 
it  is  unwise  and  unfitting.  The  morrow  has  its  own 
appropriate  duties;  and  if  to-day's  work  be  thrown 
into  it,  the  massing  of  two  days'  good  work  into  one 
exceeds  ordinary  ability.  The  consequence  is,  either 
that  both  days'  works  are  imperfectly  performed,  or 
that  part  of  what  fitly  belongs  to  the  morrow  is 
pushed  farther  on,  and  the  derangement  of  duty  made 
chronic.  Thus  there  are  persons  who  are  always  in 
arrears  with  their  engagements  and  occupations,  —  in 
chase,  as  it  were,  after  duties  which  they  never  lose 
from  sight,  and  never  overtake. 


PUNCTUALITY.  167 

Hardly  less  grave,  though  less  common,  is  the 
error  of  those  who  anticipate  duty,  and  do  to-day 
what  they  ought  to  do  to-morrow.  The  work  thus 
anticipated  may  be  superseded,  or  may  be  performed 
under  better  auspices  and  with  fewei  hindrances  in 
its  own  time  ;  while  it  can  hardly  fail  to  interfere 
injuriously  with  the  fit  employment  or  due  relaxation 
of  the  passing  day.  Moreover,  the  habit  of  thus  per- 
forming work  before  its  time  at  once  betokens  and 
intensifies  an  uneasy,  self-distrusting  frame  of  mind, 
unfavorable  to  vigorous  effort,  and  still  more  so  to  the 
quiet  enjoyment  of  needed  rest  and  recreation.  There 
are  those,  who  are  perpetually  haunted  by  the  fore- 
cast shadows,  not  only  of  fixed,  but  of  contingent 
obligations  and  duties,  —  shadows  generally  larger 
than  the  substance,  and  often  wholly  destitute  of  sub- 
stance. 

Punctuality^  denotes  the  most  scrupulous  precision 
as  to  time,  —  exactness  to  a  moment  in  the  observance 
of  all  times  that  can  be  designated  or  agreed  upon. 
In  matters  with  which  we  alone  are  concerned,  we 
undoubtedly  have  of  right,  and  may  often  very  fit- 
tingly exercise,  the  dispensing  power.  Thus,  in  the 
arrangement  of  our  own  pursuits,  the  clock  may 
measure  and  direct  our  industry,  without  binding  us 
by  its  stroke.  It  is  often  of  more  consequence  that 
we  finish  what  is  almost  done,  than  that  we  change 
our  work  because  the  usual  hour  for  a  change  has 
arrived.       But    where    others    are    concerned,    rigid 

^  From  pwnctuvi,  a  point. 


168  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

punctuality  is  an  imperative  duty.  A  fixed  time  foi 
an  assembly,  a  meeting  of  a  committee  or  board  of 
trust,  or  a  business  interview,  is  a  virtual  contract 
into  which  each  person  concerned  has  entered  with 
every  other,  and  the  strict  rules  that  apply  to  con- 
tracts of  all  kinds  are  applicable  here.  Failure  in 
punctuality  is  dishonesty.  It  involves  the  theft  of 
time,  which  to  some  men  is  money's  worth,  to  others 
is  worth  more  than  money.  It  ought  not  to  surprise 
us  if  one  wantonly  or  habitually  negligent  in  this 
matter  should  prove  himself  oblivious  of  other  and 
even  more  imperative  obligations ;  for  the  dullness  of 
conscience  and  the  obscure  sense  of  right,  indicated 
by  the  frequent  breach  of  virtual  contracts  as  to  time, 
betoken  a  character  too  feeble  to  maintain  its  integ- 
rity against  any  strong  temptation. 


SECTION  n. 

PLACE. 

The  trite  maxim,  A  place  for  everything,  and 
everything  in  its  place,  so  commends  itself  to  the 
sense  of  fitness,  as  hardly  to  need  exposition  or  en- 
forcement; yet  while  no  maxim  is  more  geneially 
admitted,  scarce  any  is  so  frequently  violated  in  prac- 
tice. In  duty,  the  elements  of  time  and  place  are  in- 
timately blended.  Disorder  in  place  generates  de- 
rangement in  time.  The  object  which  is  out  of  place 
can  be  found  only  by  the  waste  of  time  ;  and  the  most 


Cliuhli  IJS   DOMESTIC  LIFE.  169 

faithful  industry  loses  a  large  part  of  its  value  when 
its  materials  are  wanting  where  they  ought  to  be,  and 
must  be  sought  where  they  ought  not  to  be. 

Apart  from  considerations  of  utility,  order  is  an 
aesthetic  duty.     It  is  needed  to  satisfy  the  sense  of 
beauty.     Its  violation  offends    the   eye,  insults   the 
taste.     The  aesthetic  nature  craves  and  claims  culture. 
It  has  abundant  provision  made  for  it  in  external 
nature ;  but  so  large  a  part  of  life  must  be  passed 
within  doors,  at  least  in  a  climate  like  ours,  that  it  is 
starved  and  dwarfed,  if  there  be  not  in  interior  ar- 
rangements some  faint  semblance  of  the  symmetry 
and  harmony  of  the  universe.     To  effect  this  needs 
neither   abundance   nor   costliness   of   material.      A 
French  man  or  woman  will  charm  the  eye  at  a  cost 
which  in  England  would  be  represented  by  bare  and 
squalid  poverty.     A  Parisian  shop-window  will  make 
with  a  few  francs'  worth  of  goods  an  exhibition  of 
artistical  beauty  which  might  challenge  the  most  fas- 
tidious criticism.      These  effects  are  produced  solely 
by  prime  reference  to  fitness  of  place, — to  orderly 
arrangement,  —  to  a  symmetry  which  all  can  under- 
stand, and  which   any  one  might  copy.     Our  very 
capacity  of  receiving  gratification  from  this  source  is 
the  measure  of  our  duty  in  this  regard.     If  with  the 
simplest  materials  we  can  give  pleasure  to  the  soul 
through  the  eye  by  merely  assigning  its  fat  place  to 
every  object,  order  is  among  the  plainest  dictates  of 
beneficence. 

Order  is  essential  to  domestic  comfort  and  well- 


170  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

being,  and  thus  to  all  the  virtues  which  have  their 
earhest  and  surest  nurture  in  domestic  life.  There 
are  homes  at  once  affluent  and  joyless,  groaning  with 
needless  waste  and  barren  of  needed  comfort,  in  which 
the  idea  of  repose  seems  as  irrelevant  as  Solomon's 
figure  of  lying  down  on  the  top  of  a  mast,  and  all 
from  a  pervading  spirit  of  disorder.  In  such  dwell- 
ings there  is  no  love  of  home.  The  common  house  is 
a  mere  lodging  and  feeding  place.  Society  is  sought 
elsewhere,  pleasure  elsewhere ;  and  for  the  young  and 
easily  impressible  there  is  the  strongest  inducement 
to  those  modes  of  dissipation  in  which  vice  conceals 
its  grossness  behind  fair  exteriors  and  under  attrac- 
tive forms.  On  the  other  hand,  the  well-ordered 
house  affords  to  its  inmates  the  repose,  comfort,  and 
enjoyment  which  they  crave  and  need,  and  for  those 
whose  characters  are  in  the  process  of  formation  may 
neutraUze  allurements  to  evil  which  might  else  be 
irresistible. 

SECTION  m. 

MEASURE. 

There  are  many  objects,  as  to  which  the  question 
of  duty  is  a  question  of  more  or  less.  To  this  class 
belong  not  only  k>od  and  drink,  but  all  forms  of  lux- 
ury, indulgence,  recreation,  and  amusement.  In  all 
these  the  choice  lies  between  excess,  abstinence,  and 
temperance.  The  tendency  to  excess  is  intensely 
strong,  when  not  restrained  by  prudence  or  principle. 


INTEMPERANCE.  171 

This  tendency  ia  by  no  means  confined  to  the  appetite 
for  intoxicating  liquors,   though   modern    usage   has 
restricted  to  excess  in  this  particular  the  term  intern- 
perance,  which  properly  bears  a  much  more  extended 
signification.     There  is  reason  to  beheve  that  there  is 
fully  as  much  intemperance  in  food  as  in  drink,  and 
with  at  least  equally  ruinous  consequences  as  to  ca- 
pacity, character,  health,  and  life,  — mth  this  differ- 
ence only,  that  gluttony  stupefies  and  stultifies,  while 
drunkenness  maddens  ;  and  that  the  glutton  is  merely 
a  dead  weight  on  the  community,  while  the  drunk- 
ard is  an  active  instrument  of  annoyance  and  peril. 
There  are  probably  fewer  who  sink  into  an  absolutely 
beastly  condition  by  intemperance  in  food  than  by 
intemperance  in  drink  ;  but  of   persons  who  do  not 
expose  themselves  to  open  scandal,  those  whose  brains 
are  muddled,  whose   sensibilities   are  coarsened,  and 
whose  working  power  is  impaired  by  over-eating,  are 
more  numerous  than  those  in  whom  similar  effects 
are  produced  by  over-free  indulgence  in  intoxicating 
drinks.      Intemperance  in  amusements,  also,   is  not 
uncommon,  and  would  undoubtedly  be  more  preva- 
lent than  it  is,  were  not  the  inevitable  necessity  of 
labor   imposed   on   most  persons    from   a  very  early 
period.     In  this  matter  the  limit  between  temperance 
and  excess  is  aptly  fixed  by  the  term  recreation,^  as 
applied  to  all  the  gay  and  festive  portions  of  life. 
Re-creation   is   making   over,  that  is,   replacing  the 
waste  of  tissue,  brain-power,  and  physical  and  mental 
energy  occasioned  by  hard  work.     Temperance  per- 


172  MORAL    rniLOSOPBY. 

mits  the  most  generous  indulgence  of  sport,  mirth, 
and  gayety  that  can  be  claimed  as  needful  or  condu- 
cive to  this  essential  use,  but  excludes  all  beyond  this 
measure. 

Abstinence  from  all  forms  of  luxury  and  recreation, 
and  from  food  and  drink  beyond  the  lowest  demands 
of  subsistence,  has,  under  various  cultures,  been  re- 
garded as  a  duty,  as  an  appropriate  penance  for  sin, 
Hs  a  means  of  spiritual  growth,  as  a  token  of  advanced 
excellence.  This  notion  had  its  origin  in  the  dualistic 
philosophy  or  theology  of  the  East.  It  was  beheved 
that  the  sovereignty  of  the  universe  was  divided 
between  the  semi-omnipotent  principles  of  good  and 
evil,  and  that  the  earth  and  the  human  body  were 
created  by  the  evil  principle,  — by  Satan  or  his  ana- 
logue. Hence  it  was  inferred  that  the  evil  principle 
could  be  abjured  and  defied,  and  the  good  principle 
propitiated  in  no  way  so  effectually  as  by  renouncing 
the  world  and  mortifying  the  body.  Fasting,  as  a  re- 
ligious observance,  originated  in  this  belief.  It  was 
imported  from  the  East.  The  Hebrew  fasts  were  not 
established  by  Moses ;  they  were  evidently  borrowed 
from  Babylon,  and  seem  to  have  been  regarded  with 
no  favor  by  the  prophets.  The  Founder  of  Christi- 
anity prescribed  no  fast,  nor  have  we  any  reason  to 
believe  that  his  immediate  disciples  regarded  atisti- 
nence  as  a  duty.  Christian  asceticism  in  all  its  forms 
is,  like  the  Jewish  fasts,  of  Oriental  origin,  and  had 
its  first  developments  in  close  connection  with  those 
hybrids  of  Christianity  and    Oriental   philosophy  of 


TEMPERANCE.  170 

which  the  dualism  already  mentioned  forms  a  promi- 
nent feature. 

With  regard  to  all  objects  of  appetite,  desire,  and 
enjoyment,  temperance  is  evidently  fitting,  and  there- 
fore a  duty,  miless  there  be  specific  reasons  for  ab- 
stinence. Temperance  demands  and  implies  moral 
activity.  In  the  temperate  man  the  appetites,  desires, 
and  tastes  have  their  continued  existence,  and  need 
vigilant  and  wise  control,  so  that  he  has  always  work 
to  do,  a  warfare  to  wage ;  and  as  conflict  with  the 
elements  gives  vigor  to  the  body,  so  does  conflict  with 
the  body  add  strength  continually  to  the  moral  nature. 
The  ascetic  may  have  a  hard  struggle  at  the  outset ; 
but  his  aim  is  to  extirpate  his  imagined  enemies  in 
the  bodily  affections,  and  when  these  are  completely 
mortified,  or  put  to  death,  there  remains  no  more  for 
him  to  do,  and  moral  idleness  and  lethargy  ensue. 
Simon  Stylites,  who  spent  thirty-seven  years  on  pil- 
lars of  different  heights,  had  probably  stupefied  his 
moral  faculties  and  sensibilities  as  effectually  as  he 
had  crushed  to  death  the  appetites  and  cravings  of 
the  body.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  body  no 
less  than  the  soul  is  of  God's  building,  and  that  in 
his  purpose  all  the  powers  and  capacities  of  the  body 
are  good  in  their  place  and  uses,  and  therefore  to  be 
controlled  and  governed,  not  destroyed  or  suppressed. 
The  mediaeval  saint,  feeding  on  the  offal  of  the  streets, 
was  unwittingly  committing  sacrilege,  by  degrading 
and  imbruting  an  appetite  for  which  God  had  prcv 
vided  decent  and  wholesome  nutriment. 


174  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Temperance  is  better  than  abstinence,  also,  because 
the  moderate  use  of  the  objects  of  desire  is  a  source 
of  refining  and  elevating  influences.  It  is  not  with- 
out meaning  that,  m  common  speech,  the  possession 
or  loss  of  the  senses  is  made  synonymous  with  mental 
sanity  or  derangement.  By  the  temperate  gratifica 
tion  of  the  senses  the  mind  is  sustained  in  its  fresh- 
ness, vigor,  and  serenity  ;  while  when  they  are  per- 
verted by  excess,  impaired  by  age,  or  deadened  by 
disease,  in  that  same  proportion  the  mental  powers 
are  distracted,  enfeebled,  or  benumbed.  Taste,  the 
faculty  through  which  we  become  conversant  with 
the  whole  realm  of  beauty,  and  than  which  devotion 
has  no  more  efficient  auxiliary,  derives  its  name  from 
what  the  ascetic  deems  the  lowest  animal  enjoyment, 
which,  however,  has  its  range  of  the  very  highest 
ministries.  The  table  is  the  altar  of  home-love  and 
of  hospitality,  and  there  are  clustered  around  it  un- 
numbered courtesies,  kindnesses,  and  charities  that 
make  a  large  part  of  the  charm  and  joy  of  life.  So 
far  is  thoughtfulness  for  its  graceful  and  generous 
service  from  indicating  a  low  type  of  character,  that 
there  is  hardly  any  surer  index  of  refinement  and  ele- 
gant culture  than  is  furnished  by  the  family  meal. 
Similar  remarks  apply  to  the  entire  range  of  pleasur- 
able objects  and  experiences.  While  there  are  none 
of  them  in  which  excess  is  safe,  they  all,  when  en- 
joyed in  moderation,  stimulate  the  mental  powers, 
develop  and  train  the  sesthetic  faculty,  and  multiply 
beneficial  relations  alike  with  nature  and  with  society. 


ABSTINENCE,    WHEN  A  DUTY.  VI b 

Temperance,  rather  than  abstinence,  is  needed  on 
grounds  connected  with  social  economy.  Labor 
for  the  mere  necessaries  of  Hfe  occupies  hardly  a  tithe 
of  human  industry.  A  nation  of  ascetics  would  be  a 
nation  of  idlers.  It  is  the  demand  for  objects  of  en- 
joyment, taste,  luxury,  that  floats  ships,  dams  rivers, 
stimulates  invention,  feeds  prosperity,  and  creates  the 
wealth  of  nations.  It  is  only  excess  and  extravagance 
that  sustain  and  aggravate  social  inequalities,  wrongs, 
wants,  and  burdens ;  while  moderate,  yet  generous 
use  oils  the  springs  and  speeds  the  wheels  of  univer- 
sal industry,  progress,  comfort,  and  happiness. 

But  there  are  cases  in  which  abstinence,  rather 
than  temperance,  is  a  duty. 

Past  excess  may  render  temperance  hardly  pos- 
sible. From  the  derangement  consequent  upon  excess, 
an  appetite  may  lose  the  capacity  of  healthy  exercise. 
In  such  a  case,  as  we  would  amputate  a  diseased  and 
useless  limb,  we  should  suppress  the  appetite  which 
we  can  no  longer  control.  Physiological  researches 
have  shown  that  the  excessive  use  of  intoxicatmg 
drinks,  when  long  continued,  produces  an  organic  con 
dition,  in  which  the  slightest  indulgence  is  liable  to 
excite  a  craving  so  intense  as  to  transcend  the  control 
of  the  will. 

Inherited  proclivities  may,  in  like  manner,  render 
temperance  so  difficult  as  to  make  abstinence  a  duty. 
It  is  conceivable  that  a  nation  or  a  community  may, 
oy  the  prevalence  of  excess  in  past  generations,  be 
3haracterized  by  so  strong  a  tendency  to  intemperance 


176  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

as  to  render  general  abstinence  a  prerequisite  to  gen- 
eral temperance. 

Abstinence  may  also  become  a  duty,  if  to  many 
around  us  our  example  in  what  we  may  enjoy  inno- 
cently would  be  ensnaring  and  perilous.  The  recrea- 
tion, harmless  in  itself,  which  by  long  abuse  has  be- 
come a  source  of  corruption,  it  may  be  our  duty  to 
forego.  The  indulgence,  safe  for  us,  which  would  be 
unsafe  for  our  associates,  it  may  be  incumbent  on  us 
to  resign.  The  food,  the  drink  which  would  make 
our  table  a  snare  to  our  guests,  we  may  be  bound  to 
refrain  from,  though  for  ourselves  there  be  in  it  no 
latent  evil  or  lurking  danger.  This,  however,  is  a 
matter  in  which  each  person  must  determine  his  duty 
for  himself  alone,  and  in  which  no  one  is  authorized 
to  legislate  for  others.  It  may  seem  to  a  conscien- 
tious man  a  worthy  enterprise  to  vindicate  and  rescue 
from  its  evil  associations  an  amusement  or  indulgence 
in  itself  not  only  harmless,  but  salutary ;  and  there 
may  be  an  equally  strong  sense  of  right  on  both  sides 
of  a  question  of  social  morality  falling  under  this 
head.  The  joyous  side  of  life  must  be  maintained. 
The  young,  sanguine,  and  happy  wdll  at  all  events 
have  recreations,  games,  festivities,  and  of  these  there 
is  not  a  single  element,  material,  or  feature  that  has 
not  been  abused,  perverted,  or  invested  with  associa- 
tions offensive  to  a  pure  moral  taste.  To  disown  and 
oppose  them  aU  in  the  name  of  virtue,  is  to  prescribe 
a  degree  of  abstinence  which  can  have  the  assent  or 
those  only  who  have  outlived  the  capacity  of  enjoj^ 


t^OOD   MANNERS.  177 

ment.  The  more  judicious  course  is  to  favor,  or  at 
least  to  tolerate  such  modes  of  indulgence  as  may  for 
the  present  be  the  least  liable  to  abuse,  or  such  as 
may  in  prospect  be  the  safest  in  their  moral  influence, 
and  by  sanctioning  these  to  render  more  emphatic  and 
efficient  the  disapproval  and  rejection  of  such  as  are 
mtrinsically  wrong  and  evil. 


SECTION  IV. 
MANNERS. 

The  ancients  had  but  one  word  for  manners  and 
morals.  It  might  be  well  if  the  same  were  the  case 
with  us,  —  yet  with  this  essential  difference,  that 
while  they  degraded  morals  to  the  level  of  manners,  a 
higher  culture  would  lead  us  to  raise  manners  to  the 
level  of  morals.  The  main  characteristics  of  good 
manners  are  comprised  in  the  three  preceding  Sec- 
tions. They  are  the  observance,  in  one's  demeanor 
and  conduct  toward  others,  of  the  fitnesses  of  time 
and  place,  and  of  the  due  and  graceful  mean  between 
overwrought,  extravagant,  or  fantastic  manifestations 
of  regard  on  tlie  one  hand,  and  coldness,  supercilious- 
ness, or  indifference  on  the  other.  Courtesies,  like 
more  substantial  kindnesses,  are  neutralized  hiJ  delay, 
and,  when  slow,  seem  forced  and  reluctant.  Atten- 
tions, which  in  their  place  are  gratifying,  may,  if 
misplaced,  occasion  only  mortification  and  embaiTass- 
ment,  as  when  civilities   befitting  interior  home-life 

12 


178  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

are  reheai-sed  for  the  public  eye  and  ear.  Nor  is 
there  aiiy  department  of  conduct  in  which  excess  or 
deficiency  is  more  painfully  felt,  —  a  redundance  of 
compliments  and  assiduities  tending  to  silence  and 
abash  the  recipient,  while  their  undue  scanting  m- 
flicts  a  keen  sense  of  slight,  neglect,  and  injury. 

Politeness  must,  indeed,  in  order  even  to  appear 
genuine,  be  the  expression  of  sincere  kindness.  There 
is  no  pretence  so  difficult  to  maintain  as  the  false  show 
of  genial  and  benevolent  feeling.  The  mask  cannot 
be  so  fitted  to  the  face  as  not  to  betray  its  seams  and 
sutures.  Yet  kindness  is  not  of  itself  politeness.  Its 
spontaneous  expressions  may  be  rude  and  awkward ; 
or  they  may  take  forms  not  readily  understood  and 
appreciated.  There  are  conventional  modes  of  polite 
demeanor  no  less  than  of  courteous  speech.  These 
modee  may  have  no  intrinsic  fitness,  yet  they  acquire 
a  fitness  from  their  long  and  general  use ;  and  while 
the  mere  repetition  of  stereotyped  formulas  whether 
in  word  or  deportment  is  justly  offensive,  he  who 
would  have  his  politeness  recognized  and  enjoyed 
must  beware  lest  he  depart  too  widely  from  the 
established  sign-language  of  society.  There  is  a 
hrusquerie  often  underlying  hearty  kindness  and  good 
fellowship,  which  at  the  outset  pains,  wounds,  and 
repels  those  brought  within  its  sphere,  and  which  the 
most  intimate  friends  endure  and  excuse  rather  than 
approve. 

Politeness  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  indispensable 
duty.     It  is  believed  that  from  its  neglect  or  violation 


POLITENESS.  179 

more  discomfort  ensues  than  from  any  other  single 
cause,  and  in  some  circles  and  conditions  of  society 
more  than  from  all  other  causes  combined.  There 
are  neighborhoods  and  communities  that  are  seldom 
disturbed  by  grave  offences  against  the  criminal  law, 
but  none  which  can  insure  itself  against  the  affronts, 
enmities,  wounded  sensibilities,  rankling  gi-ievances. 
occasioned  by  incivility  and  rudeness.  Moreover, 
there  are  persons  entirely  free  from  vice,  perhaps  os- 
tentatious in  the  qualities  which  are  the  opposites  of 
vices,  and  not  deficient  in  charitable  labors  and  gifts, 
who  cultivate  discourtesy,  are  acrid  or  bitter  in  their 
very  deeds  of  charity,  and  carry  into  every  society  a 
certain  porcupine  selfhood,  which  makes  their  mere 
presence  annoying  and  baneful.  Such  persons,  be- 
sides the  suffering  they  inflict  on  individuals,  are  of 
unspeakable  injury  to  their  respective  circles  or  com- 
munities, by  making  their  very  virtues  unlovely,  and 
piety,  if  they  profess  it,  hateful.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  is  no  truer  benefactor  to  society  —  if  the  crea- 
tion of  happiness  be  the  measure  of  benefit  —  than 
the  genuine  gentleman  or  gentlewoman,  who  adds 
grace  to  virtue,  politeness  to  kindness ;  who  under  the 
guidance  of  a  sincere  fellow-feeling,  studies  the  fit- 
n(5sses  of  speech  and  manner,  in  civility  and  courtesy 
endeavors  to  render  to  all  their  due,  and  in  the  least 
details  that  can  affect  another's  happiness,  does  care- 
fully and  conscientiously  all  that  the  meet  fastidious 
Btnbibility  could  claim  or  desire. 


180  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

SECTION  V. 
GOVERNMENT. 

The  establishment  and  preservation  of  order  ia 
the  prime  and  essential  function  of  government; 
the  prevention  and  punishment  of  crime,  its  second- 
ary, incidental,  perhaps  even  temporary  use.  In  a 
perfect  state  of  society,  government  would  still  be 
necessary ;  for  it  would  be  only  by  the  observance  of 
common  and  mutual  designations  of  time,  place,  and 
measure,  that  each  individual  member  of  society  could 
enjoy  the  largest  liberty  and  the  fullest  revenue  from 
objects  of  desire,  compatible  with  the  just  claims  and 
rights  of  others.  These  benefits  can,  under  no  con- 
ceivable condition  in  which  finite  beings  can  be  placed, 
be  secured  except  by  system,  under  a  central  admin- 
istration, and  with  the  submission  of  individual  wills 
and  judgments  to  constituted  and  established  au- 
thority. A  bad  government,  then,  is  better  than 
none ;  for  a  bad  government  can  exist  only  by  doing 
a  part  of  its  appropriate  work,  while  in  a  state  of 
anarchy  the  whole  of  that  work  is  left  undone  and 
unattempted. 

Obedience  to  government  is,  then,  fitting,  and 
therefore  a  duty,  independently  of  all  considerations 
as  to  the  wisdom,  or  even  the  justice  of  its  decrees  oi 
statutes.  If  they  are  unwise,  they  yet  are  rules  to 
which  the  community  can  conform  itself,  and  by 
w^^iob  its  members  can  make  their  plans  and  govern 


VACILLATING  LEGISLATION  181 

Iheir  expectations,  while  lawlessness  is  the  negation 
alike  of  guidance  for  the  present  and  of  confidence  in 
the  future.    If  they  are  unjust,  they  yet  do  less  wrong 
and  to  fewer  persons,  than  would  be  done  by  individ- 
ual and  sporadic  attempts  to  evade  or  neutralize  them. 
Nay,  unwise  and  inequitable  laws,  to  which  the  habits 
and  the  industrial  relations  of  a  people  have  adjusted 
themselves,  are  to  be  preferred  to  vacillating  legisla- 
tion, though  in  a  generally   right   direction.     Lawa 
that  affect   important  interests  should  be  improved 
only  with  reference  to  the  virtual  pledges   made  by 
previous  legislation,  and  so  as  to  guard  the  interests 
involved  against  the  injurious  effects  of  new  and  rev- 
olutionary measures.     The  tariff  regulations  of  our 
own  country  will  illustrate  the  bearing  of  this  princi- 
ple.    It  forms  no  part  of  our  present  plan  to  discuss 
the  mooted  questions  of   free  trade  and   protection. 
But  in  the  confession  of  even  extreme  partisans  on 
either  side,  the  capital  and  industry  of  our  people  could 
never  have  suffered  so  much  from  any  one  tariff  of  du- 
ties, however  injudicious,  as  they  suffered  for  a  series 
of  years  from  sudden  changes  of  policy,  by  which  in- 
vestments that  had  been  invited  by  the  legislation  of 
one  Congress  were  made  fruitless  by  the  action  of  the 
next,  and  manufactures  stimulated  into  rapid  growth 
by   high   protective   duties,  were   arrested    and   often 
ruined  by  their  sudden  repeal.     The  stability  of  laws 
is  obviously  a  higher  good  than  their  conformity  to 
the  theoretical  views  of  the  more  enlightened  citizens. 
Except  under  a  despotism,  laws  are  virtually  an  ex 


182  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

pression  of  the  opinion  or  will  of  the  majority ;  and 
laws  which  by  any  combination  of  favoring  circum- 
stances are  enacted  in  advance  of  the  general  opinion, 
are  always  liable  to  speedy  repeal,  with  a  double 
series  of  the  injurious  consequences  which  can  hardly 
fail  to  ensue  immediately  on  any  change. 

But  are  there  no  liraits  to  obedience  ?  Undoubt- 
edly there  are  A  bad  law  is  to  be  obeyed  for  the 
sake  of  order  ;  an  immoral  law  is  to  be  disobeyed  for 
the  sake  of  the  individual  conscience ;  and  of  the 
moral  character  of  a  particular  law,  or  of  action  under 
it,  the  individual  conscience  is  the '  only  legitimate 
judge.  Where  the  law  of  the  land  and  absolute  right 
are  at  variance,  the  citizen  is  bound,  not  only  to  with- 
hold obedience,  but  to  avow  his  belief,  and  to  give  it 
full  expression  in  every  legitimate  form  and  way,  by 
voice  and  pen,  by  private  influence  and  through  the 
ballot-box.  But  in  the  interest  of  the  public  order, 
it  is  his  duty  to  confine  his  opposition  to  legal  and 
constitutional  methods,  to  refrain  from  factious  and 
seditious  resistance,  to  avoid,  if  possible,  the  emer- 
gency in  which  disobedience  would  become  his  duty, 
and  in  case  his  conscience  constrains  him  to  disobedi- 
ence, still  to  show  his  respect  for  the  majesty  of  law 
by  quietly  submitting  to  its  penalty.  The  still  recent 
history  of  our  country  furnishes  a  case  in  point.  By 
the  Fugitive -Slave  Law  —  wdiich  the  Divine  provi- 
dence, indeed,  repealed  without  waiting  for  the  action 
of  (yongress  —  the  private  citizen  who  gave  shelter, 
sustenance,   or    comfort   to   a   fugitive   slave ;    wboj. 


IMMORAL  LAWS.  18'd 

knowing  his  hiding-place,  omitted  to  divulge  it,  or 
who,  when  called  upon  to  assist  in  arresting  him,  re- 
fused his  aid,  was  made  liable  to  a  heavy  fine  and  a 
long  imprisonment.  Now  as  to  this  law,  it  was  obvi- 
ously the  duty  of  a  citizen  who  regarded  the  slave  as 
fjititled  to  the  rights  of  a  man,  to  seek  its  repeal  by 

«11  constitutional  methods  within  his  power.  It  waa 
equally  his  duty  to  refrain  from  all  violent  interference 
with  the  functionaries  charged  with  its  execution,  and 
to  avoid,  if  possible,  all  collision  with  the  government. 
But  if,  without  his  seeking,  a  fugitive  slave  had  been 
cast  upon  his  humane  ofiices,  the  question  then  would 
have  arisen  whether  lie  should  obey  God  or  man ;  and 
to  this  question  he  could  have  had  but  one  answer.  Yet 
his  obedience  to  God  would  have  lacked  its  crowning 
grace,  if  he  had  not  meekly  yielded  to  the  penalty  for 
his  disobedience  to  the  law  of  the  land.  It  was  by 
this  course  that  the  primitive  Christians  attested  their 
loyalty  at  once  to  God  and  to  ''  the  powers  that  be," 
which  were  '•'•  ordained  of  God."  Thev  refused  obe- 
dience  to  the  civil  authorities  in  matters  in  which 
their  religious  duty  was  compromised  ;  but  they  nei- 
ther resisted  nor  evaded  the  penalty  for  their  disobe- 
dience. Similar  was  the  course  of  the  Quakers  in 
England  and  America  almost  down  to  our  own  time. 
They  were  quiet  and  useful  citizens,  performing  the 
same  functions  with   their   fellow-citizens,  so   far   as 

.heir  consciences  permitted,  and,  where  conscience  in- 
terposed its  veto,  taking  patiently  the  distrainmg  of 
their  goods,  and   the   imprisonment   of  their  bodies, 


184  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

until,  by  their  blameless  lives  and  their  meek  endur- 
ance, they  won  from  the  governments  both  of  the 
mother  country  and  of  the  United  States,  amnesty 
for  theii'  conscientious  scruples. 

There  may  be  a  state  of  society  in  which  it  becomes 
the  duty  of  good  citizens  to  assume  an  illegal 
attitude,  and  to  perform  illegal  acts,  in  the  inter- 
est of  law  and  order.  If  those  who  are  legally  in- 
trusted with  executive  and  judicial  offices  are  openly, 
notoriously,  and  persistently  false  to  their  trusts,  to 
such  a  degree  as  to  derange  and  subvert  the  social 
order  which  it  is  their  function  to  maintain,  good  citi- 
zens, if  they  have  the  power,  have  undoubtedly  the 
right  to  displace  them,  and  to  institute  a  provisional 
government  for  the  temporary  emergency.  A  case  of 
this  kind  occurred  a  few  years  ago  in  San  Francisco. 
The  entire  government  of  the  city  had  for  a  series  of 
years  been  under  the  control  of  ruffians  and  miscre- 
ants, and  force  and  fraud  had  rendered  the  ballot-box 
an  meffectual  remedy.  No  law-abiding  citizen  deemed 
his  hfe  or  property  safe  ;  gross  outrages  were  commit- 
ted with  impunity  ;  and  thieves  and  murderers  alone 
had  the  protection  of  the  municipal  authorities.  De- 
spairing of  legal  remedy,  the  best  citizens  of  all  parties 
organized  themselves  under  the  direction  of  a  Com- 
mittee of  Safety,  forcibly  deposed  the  municipal  mag- 
istrates and  judges,  brought  well-known  criminals  to 
trial,  conviction,  and  punishment,  reestablished  the 
integrity  of  suffrage,  and  resigned  tlieir  power  to 
functionaries  lawfully  elected,  under  whom  and  their 


THE  RIGHT  OF  REVOLUTION.  185 

successors  the  city  has  enjoyed  a  degree  of  order, 
tranquillity,  and  safety  at  least  equal  to  that  of  any 
other  great  city  on  the  continent. 

The  right  of  revolution  undoubtedly  is  inherent 
In  a  national  body  politic  ;  but  it  is  an  extreme  right, 
and  is  to  be  exercised  only  under  the  most  urgent  ne- 
cessity. Its  conditions  cannot  be  strictly  defined,  and 
its  exercise  can,  perhaps,  be  justified  only  by  its  results. 
A  constitutional  government  can  seldom  furnish  oc- 
casion for  violent  revolutionary  measures ;  for  every 
constitution  has  its  own  provisions  for  legal  amend 
ment,  and  the  public  sentiment  ripe  for  revolution  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  strong  enough  to  carry  the  amend- 
ments which  it  craves,  through  the  legal  processes, 
which,  if  slow  and  cumbrous,  are  immeasurably  prefer- 
able to  the  employment  of  force  and  the  evils  of  civil 
war.  On  the  other  hand,  a  despotic  or  arbitrary  gov- 
ernment may  admit  of  abrogation  only  by  force  ;  and 
if  its  administration  violates  private  rights,  imposes 
unrighteous  burdens  and  disabilities,  suppresses  the 
development  of  the  national  resources,  and  supersedes 
the  administration  of  justice  or  the  existence  of  equi- 
table relations  between  class  and  class  or  between 
man  and  man,  the  people  —  the  rightful  source  and 
arbiter  of  government  —  has  manifestly  the  right  to 
assert  its  own  authority,  and  to  substitute  a  constitu- 
tion and  rulers  of  its  own  choice  for  the  sovereignty 
which  has  betrayed  its  trust.  Under  similar  oppres- 
sion, the  same  right  unquestionably  exists  in  a  remote 
colony,  or  in  a  nation  subject  by  conquest  to  a  foreign 


186  MORAL  PHILOSPUY. 

power.  If  that  power  refuses  the  rights  and  privi- 
leges of  subjects  to  a  people  ovei-  which  it  exercises 
sovereignty,  and  governs  it  in  its  own  iiniigined  inter- 
ests, with  a  systematic  and  persistent  disregard  to  the 
well-being  of  the  people  thus  governed,  resistance  is 
a  right,  and  may  become  a  duty.  In  fine,  the  func- 
tion of  government  is  the  maintenance  of  just  and 
beneficent  order ;  a  government  forfeits  its  rights 
when  it  is  false  to  this  function ;  and  the  rights  thus 
forfeited  revert  to  the  misgoverned  people. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

CASUISTRY 

CASUISTRY  is  the  application  of  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  morality  to  individual  cases  in  which  there 
IS  room  for  question  as  to  duty.  The  question  may  be 
as  to  the  obligation  or  the  rightfulness  of  a  particular 
act,  as  to  the  choice  between  two  alternative  courses, 
as  to  the  measure  or  limit  of  a  recognized  duty,  or  as 
to  the  grounds  of  preference  when  there  seems  to  be 
a  conflict  of  duties.  A  large  proportion  of  these  cases 
disappear  under  any  just  view  of  moral  obligation. 
Most  questions  of  conscience  have  their  origin  in  de- 
ficient conscientiousness.  He  who  is  determined  to 
do  the  right,  the  whole  right,  and  nothing  but  the 
right,  is  seldom  at  a  loss  to  know  what  he  ought  to 
do.  But  when  the  aim  is  to  evade  all  difficult  duties 
which  can  be  omitted  without  shame  or  the  clear  con- 
sciousness of  wi-ong,  and  to  go  as  close  as  possible  to 
the  boundary  line  between  good  and  evil  without 
crossing  it,  the  questions  that  arise  are  often  perplex- 
ing and  complicated,  and  they  are  such  as,  in  the 
interest  of  virtue,  may  fittingly  remain  unanswered. 
There  are  .ilwajs  those  whose  aim  is,  not  to  attain 
any  definite,  still  less  any  indefinitely  high,  standard 
of  goodness,  but  to  be  saved  from  the  penal  conse' 


188  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

quences  of  wrong-doing ;  and  there  are  even  (so- 
called)  religious  persons,  and  teachers  too,  with  whom 
this  negative  indemnity  from  punishment  fills  out  the 
whole  meaning  of  the  sacred  and  significant  term  sal- 
vation. It  must  be  confessed  that  questions  which 
could  emanate  only  from  such  minds,  furnish  a  very 
large  part  of  the  often  voluminous  and  unwieldy  trea- 
tises on  casuistry  that  have  come  down  to  us  from 
earUer  times,  especially  of  that  entire  class  of  moral- 
ists whose  chief  endeavor  is  to  lay  out  a  border-path 
just  outside  the  confines  of  acknowledged  wrong  and 
evil. 

Yet  there  are  oases  in  which  the  most  consci- 
entious persons  may  be  in  doubt  as  to  the  right. 
We  can  here  indicate  only  the  general  principles  on 
which  such  cases  are  to  be  deeded,  with  a  very  few 
specific  illustrations. 

The  question  of  duty  is  often  a  question,  not 
of  principle,  but  of  fact.  It  is  the  case^  the  position 
and  relations  of  the  persons  or  objects  concerned,  that 
we  do  not  fully  understand.  For  instance,  when  a 
new  appeal  is  made  for  our  charitable  aid,  in  labor  or 
iHuney,  the  question  is  not  whether  it  is  our  duty  to 
assist  in  a  work  of  real  beneficence,  but  whether  for 
the  proposed  object,  and  under  the  direction  of  those 
who  make  the  appeal,  our  labor  or  money  will  be 
lucratively  invested  in  the  service  of  humanity.  There 
are,  certainly,  benevolent  associations  and  enterprises 
for  the  very  noblest  ends,  whose  actual  utility  is  open 
to  the  gravest  doubt.     It  is  sometimes  difficult  even 


THE  LIMIT  OF  DUTY.  189 

to  determine  a  question  of  justice  or  equity,  simply 
because  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  so  far  as  we 
can  understand  them,  do  not  define  the  right.  In- 
stances of  this  class  might  be  multiplied  ;  but  they 
are  all  instances  in  which  there  is  no  obscurity  as  to 
our  obligation  or  duty,  and  therefore  no  question  for 
moral  casuistry.  We  are,  however,  obviously  bound, 
by  considerations  of  fitness,  to  seek  the  fullest  infor- 
mation within  our  power  in  every  case  in  which  we 
are  compelled  to  act,  or  see  fit  to  act ;  nor  can  we 
regard  action  without  knowledge,  even  though  the 
motive  be  virtuous,  as  either  safe  or  blameless. 

The  measure  or  limit  of  duty  is  with  many  con- 
scientious persons  a  serious  question.  Here  an  exact 
definition  is  hardly  possible,  and  a  generous  liberty 
may  be  given  to  individual  taste  or  judgment ;  yet 
considerations  of  fitness  set  bounds  to  that  liberty. 
Thus  direct  and  express  self -culture  is  a  duty  incum- 
bent on  all,  yet  in  which  diversity  of  inclination  may 
render  very  different  degrees  of  diligence  equally  fit- 
ting and  right ;  but  all  self-centred  industry  is  fittingly 
limited  by  domestic,  social,  and  civic  obligations. 
Thus,  also,  direct  acts  of  beneficence  are  obviously 
incumbent  on  all ;  but  the  degree  of  self-sacrifice  for 
beneficent  ends  need  not,  nay,  ought  not  to  be  the 
same  for  every  one  ;  and  while  we  hold  in  the  highest 
admiration  those  who  make  the  entire  surrender  of  all 
tliat  they  have  and  are  to  the  service  of  mankind,  we 
have  no  reason  to  scant  our  esteem  for  those  who  are 
simply  kind  and  generous,  while  they  at  the  same 


190  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

time  labor,  spend,  or  save  for  their  own  benefit.  In- 
deed, the  world  has  fully  as  much  need  of  the  latter 
as  of  the  former.  Were  the  number  of  self-devoting 
philanthropists  over-large,  a  great  deal  of  the  neces- 
sary business  and  work  of  life  would  be  left  undone ; 
and  did  self-denying  givers  constitute  a  very  numer- 
ous body,  the  dependent  and  mendicant  classes  would 
be  much  more  numerous  than  they  are ;  while  the 
withdrawal  of  expenditure  for  personal  objects  would 
paralyze  industrial  enterprise,  and  arrest  the  creation 
of  that  general  wealth  which  contributes  to  the  gen- 
eral comfort  and  happiness,  and  the  accumulation  of 
those  large  fortunes  which  are  invaluable  as  safety- 
funds  and  movement-funds  for  the  whole  community. 
There  are  cases  in  which  there  is  manifestly  a  con- 
flict of  duties.  This  most  frequently  occurs  between 
prudence  and  beneficence.  Up  to  a  certain  point  they 
coincide.  No  prudent  man  will  suffer  himseK  to  con- 
tract unsocial,  or  selfish,  or  miserly  habits,  or  to  neg- 
lect the  ordinary  good  offices  and  common  charities  of 
life.  But  is  one  bound  to  transcend  the  limits  of  pru- 
dence, and,  without  any  specific  grounds  of  personal 
obligation,  to  incur  loss,  hardship,  or  peril,  ia  behalf 
of  another  person  ?  One  is  no  doubt  bound  to  do  all 
that  he  could  reasonably  expect  from  another,  were 
their  positions  reversed ;  but  is  it  his  duty  to  do  more 
than  this  ?  In  answer,  it  must  be  admitted  that  he 
who  in  such  a  case  suffers  prudence  to  limit  his  beneti- 
cence  has  done  all  that  duty  absolutely  requires  ,  but, 
in  proportion  to  the  warmth  of  his  benevolence  and 


ORDER  OF  PRECEDENCE  IN  DUTIES.        191 

the  loftiness  of  his  spirit  and  character,  he  will  find 
himself  constrained  to  transcend  this  limit,  and  to  sac- 
rifice prudence  to  beneficence     Thus  —  to  take  an  in- 
stance from  a  class  of  events  by  no  means  infrequent 
—  if  I  see  a  man  in  danger  of  drowning,  it  is  ob 
vriously  my  duty  to  do  all  that  I  can  do  for  his  rescue 
without  putting  my  own  life  in  jeopardy.     But  I  owe 
him  no  more  than  this.     IVij  own  hfe  is  precious  to 
me  and  to  my  family,  and  I  have  a  right  so  to  regard 
it.     I  shall  not  deserve  censure  or  self-reproach,  if  I 
dechne  exposing  myself  to  imminent  peril.     Yet  if  T 
have  the  generosity  and  the  courage  which  belong  to 
a  truly  noble  nature,  I  shall  not  content  myself  with 
doing  no  more  than  this,  —  I  shall  hazard  my  own 
safety  if  there  is  reason  to  hope  that  my  efforts  may 
have  a  successful  issue  ;  and  in  so  doing  I  shall  per- 
form an  act  of  heroic  virtue.     The  same  principle 
will  apply  to  exposure,  danger,  and  sacrifice  of  every 
kind,  incurred   for    the   safety,  relief,   or   benefit   of 
others.     We  transgress  no  positive  law  of  right,  when 
we  omit  doing  for  others  more  than  we  could  right- 
fully expect  were  we   in  their  place.      Prudence  in 
such  a  case  is  our  right.     But  it  is  a  right  which  it  is 
more  noble  bo  surrender  than  to  retain;  and  the  readi- 
ness with  which  and  the  degree  in  which  we  are  will- 
ing to  surrender  it,  may  be  taken  as  a  fair  criterion  of 
our  moral  growth  and  strength. 

Under  the  title  of  Justice,  with  the  broad  scope 
which  we  have  given  to  it,  there  may  be  an  apparent 
conflict  of  duties,  and  there  are  certain  obvious  laws 


192  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

of  precedence  which  may  cover  all  such  cases.  We 
should  first  say  that  our  obligations  to  the  Supreme 
Being  have  a  paramount  claim  above  all  duties  to  in- 
ferior beings,  had  we  not  reason  to  believe  that  God 
is  in  no  way  so  truly  worshipped  and  served  as  bj 
acts  of  justice  and  mercy  to  his  children.  The  Divine 
Teacher  has  given  us  to  understand,  not  that  there  is 
no  time  or  place  too  sacred  for  charity,  but  that  holy 
times  and  places  have  their  highest  consecration  in 
the  love  to  man  which  love  to  God  inspires. 

Toward  men,  it  hardly  needs  to  be  said  that  jus- 
tice (in  the  limited  and  ordinary  acceptation  of  the 
word)  has  the  precedence  of  charity.  Indeed,  were 
it  not  for  the  prevalence  of  injustice  —  individual, 
social,  and  civic  —  there  would  hardly  be  any  scope 
for  the  active  exercise  of  charity.  Want  comes  almost 
wholly  from  wrong.  Were  justice  universal,  that  is, 
were  the  rights  and  privileges  which  fitly  belong  to 
men  as  men,  extended  to  and  made  available  by  all 
classes  and  conditions  of  men,  there  would  still  be 
great  inequalities  of  wealth  and  of  social  condition ; 
but  abject  and  squalid  poverty  could  hardly  exist.  In 
almost  every  individual  instance,  the  withholdmg  or 
delay  of  justice  tends  more  or  less  directly  toward  the 
creation  of  the  very  evils  which  charity  relieves.  No 
amount  of  generosity,  then,  can  palliate  injustice,  or 
stand  as  a  substitute  for  justice. 

As  regards  the  persons  to  whom  we  owe  offices  of 
kindness  or  charity,  it  is  obvious  that  those  related 
to  us  by  consanguinity  or  affinity  have  the  first 


PERMANENT  GOOD   TO  BE  BESTOWED.     198 

olaim.  These  relations  have  all  the  elements  of  a 
natu  ral  alliance  for  mutual  defence  and  help ;  and  it  is 
impossible  that  their  essential  duties  should  be  faith- 
fully discharged  and  their  fitnesses  duly  observed, 
without  creating  sympathies  that  in  stress  of  need 
will  find  expression  in  active  charity.  In  the  next 
rank  we  may  fittingly  place  our  benefactors,  if  their 
condition  be  such  as  to  demand  a  return  for  their 
kind  ofiices  in  our  behaK.  Nearness  in  place  may  be 
next  considered ;  for  the  very  fact  that  the  needs  of 
our  neighbors  are  or  may  be  within  our  cognizance, 
commends  them  especially  to  our  charity,  and  enables 
us  to  be  the  more  judicious  and  effective  in  their  relief, 
Indeed,  in  smaller  communities,  where  the  dwellings 
of  the  rich  and  of  the  poor  are  interspersed,  a  general 
recognition  of  the  claims  of  neighborhood  on  charity 
would  cover  the  field  of  active  beneficence  with  an 
efficiency  attainable  in  no  other  way,  and  at  a  greatly 
diminished  cost  of  time  and  substance.  There  is  yet 
another  type  of  neighborhood,  consecrated  to  our  rev- 
erent observance  by  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samari- 
tan. There  are  from  time  to  time  cases  of  want  and 
suffering  brought,  without  our  seeking,  under  our  im- 
mediate regard,  —  cast,  as  it  were,  directly  upon  oui 
kind  offices.  The  person  thus  commended  to  us  is, 
for  the  time,  our  nearest  neighbor,  nay,  our  nearest 
kinsman,  and  the  very  circumstances  which  have 
placed  him  in  this  relation  to  us,  make  him  fittingly 
the  foremost  object  of  our  charity. 

The  question   sometimes  presents  itself   whether 

13 


194  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

we  shall  bestow  an  immediate,  yet  transient  ben- 
efit, or  a  more  remote,  but  permanent  good.  If 
the  two  are  incompatible,  and  the  former  is  not  a 
matter  of  absolute  necessity,  the  latter  is  to  be  pie- 
ferred.  Thus  remunerative  employment  is  much 
m  :>re  beneficial  than  alms  to  an  able-bodied  man,  and 
it  is  better  that  he  suffer  some  degree  of  straitness  till 
he  can  earn  a  more  comfortable  condition,  than  that 
he  be  first  made  to  feel  the  dependence  of  pauperism. 
Yet  if  his  want  be  entire  and  urgent,  the  delay  of 
immediate  relief  is  the  part  of  cruelty.  On  similar 
grounds,  beneficence  which  embraces  a  class  of  cases 
or  persons  is  to  be  preferred  to  particular  acts  of 
kindness  to  individuals.  Thus  it  seems  harsh  to  re- 
fuse alms  to  an  unknown  street  beggar  ;  but  as  such 
relief  gives  shelter  to  a  vast  amount  of  fraud,  idleness, 
and  vice,  it  is  much  better  that  we  should  sustain,  by 
contributions  proportioned  to  our  ability,  some  system 
by  which  cases  of  actual  need,  and  such  only,  can  be 
promptly  and  adequately  cared  for,  and  that  we  then 
—  however  reluctantly  —  refuse  our  alms  to  appli- 
cants of  doubtful  merit. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

ANCIENT   HISTORY   OF  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

T^HE  numerous  ethical  systems  that  have  had 
currency  in  earlier  or  later  times,  may  be  divided 
into  two  classes,  —  the  one  embracing  those  which 
make  virtue  a  means ;  the  other,  those  which  make 
it  an  end.  According  to  the  former,  virtue  is  to  be 
practised  for  the  good  that  vrill  come  of  it ;  according 
to  the  latter,  for  its  own  sake,  for  its  intrinsic  excel- 
lence. These  classes  have  obvious  subdivisions.  The 
former  includes  both  the  selfish  and  the  utilitarian 
theory  ;  while  the  latter  embraces  a  vride  diversity  of 
views  as  to  the  nature,  the  standard,  and  the  crite- 
rion of  virtue,  according  as  it  is  believed  to  consist  in 
conformity  to  the  fitness  of  things,  in  harmony  with 
an  unsophisticated  taste,  in  accordance  with  the  inte- 
rior moral  sense,  or  in  obedience  to  the  will  of  God. 
There  are,  also,  border  theories,  which  blend,  or  rather 
force  into  juxtaposition,  the  ideas  that  underlie  the 
two  classes  respectively. 

It  is  proposed,  in  the  present  chapter,  to  give  an 
outline  of  the  history  of  ethical  philosophy  in 
Greece  and  Rome,  or  rather,  in  Greece ;  for  Rome 
had  no  philosophy  that  was  not  born  in  Greece. 

Socrates    was   less   a    moral    philosopher   than   a 


196  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

preacher  of  virtue.  Self -ordained  as  a  censor  and  re- 
former, he  directed  his  invective  and  irony  principally 
against  the  Sophists,  whose  chief  characteristic  as  to 
philosophy  seems  to  have  been  the  denial  of  objective 
truth,  and  thus,  of  absolute  and  determinate  right. 
Socrates,  in  contrast  with  them,  seeks  to  elicit  duty 
from  the  occasions  for  its  exercise,  making  his  collocu- 
tors define  right  and  obhgation  from  the  nature  of 
things  as  presented  to  their  own  consciousness  and 
reflection.  Plato  represents  him,  whenever  a  moral 
question  is  under  discussion,  as  probing  the  very  heart 
of  the  case,  and  drawing  thence  the  response  as  from 
a  divine  oracle. 

Plato  held  essentially  the  same  ground,  as  may  be 
seen  in  his  identifying  the  True,  the  Beautiful,  and 
the  Good ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  trace  in  his  writings 
the  outlines  of  a  definite  ethical  system,  whether  his 
own,  or  one  derived  from  his  great  master. 

The  three  principal  schools  of  ethical  philoso- 
phy in  Greece  were  the  Peripatetic,  the  Epicurean, 
and  the  Stoic. 

The  Peripatetics  derived  their  philosophy  from 
Aristotle,  and  their  name  from  his  habit  of  walking 
up  and  down  under  the  plane-trees  of  the  Lyceum. 
According  to  him,  virtue  is  conduct  so  conformed  to 
human  nature  as  to  preserve  all  its  appetites,  proclivi- 
ties,  desires,  and  passions,  in  mutual  check  and  lim- 
itation. It  consists  in  shunning  extremes.  Thus 
courage  stands  midway  between  cowardice  and  rash- 
ness ;    temperance,  between   excess    and  self-denial ; 


ARISTOTLE'S  PERSONAL   CHARACTER.        197 

generosity,  between  prodigality  and  parsimony ;  meek- 
ness, between  irascibility  and  pusillanimity.  Happi- 
ness is  regarded  as  the  supreme  good  ;  but  while  this 
is  not  to  be  attained  without  virtue,  virtue  alone  wiU 
not  secure  it.  Happiness  requires,  in  addition,  certain 
outward  advantages,  such  as  health,  riches,  friends, 
wliich  therefore  a  good  man  will  seek  by  all  lawful 
means.  Aristotle  laid  an  intense  stress  on  the  culti- 
vation of  the  domestic  virtues,  justly  representing  the 
household  as  the  type,  no  less  than  the  nursery,  of 
the  state,  and  the  political  well-being  of  the  state  aa 
contingent  on  the  style  of  character  cherished  and 
manifested  in  the  home-life  of  its  members. 

There  is  reason  to  beheve  that  Aristotle's  per- 
sonal character  was  conformed  to  his  theorv  of  vir- 
tue,  —  that  he  pursued  the  middle  path,  rather  than 
the  more  arduous  route  of  moral  perfection.  Though 
much  of  his  time  was  spent  in  Athens,  he  was  a  native 
of  Macedonia,  and  was  for  several  years  resident  at 
the  court  of  Philip  as  tutor  to  Alexander,  with  whom 
he  retained  friendly  relations  for  the  greater  part  of 
his  royal  pupil's  life.  Of  his  connection  with  the 
Macedonian  court  and  public  affairs,  there  are  several 
stories  that  impHcate  him  dishonorably  with  political 
intrigues,  and  though  there  is  not  one  of  these  that  is 
not  denied,  and  not  one  which  rests  on  competent  his- 
torical authority,  such  traditions  are  not  apt  so  to 
cluster  as  to  blur  the  fair  fame  of  a  sturdily  incor- 
ruptible man,  but  are  much  more  likely  to  cling  to 
the  memory  of  a  trimmer  and  a  time-server. 


198  MOiiAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Epicurus,  from  whom  the  Epicurean  philosophy 
derives  its  name,  was  for  many  years  a  teacher  of 
philosophy  in  Athens.  He  was  a  man  of  simple,  pure, 
chaste,  and  temperate  habits,  in  his  old  age  bore  se- 
vi.Te  and  protracted  sufferings,  from  compHcated  and 
incurable  disease,  with  singular  equanimity,  and  had 
his  memory  posthumously  blackened  only  by  those 
who  —  like  theological  bigots  of  more  recent  times  — 
inferred,  in  despite  of  all  contemporary  evidence,  that 
he  was  depraved  in  character,  because  they  thought 
that  his  philosophy  ought  to  have  made  him  so. 

He  represented  pleasure  as  the  supreme  good, 
and  its  pleasure-yielding  capacity  as  the  sole  criterion 
by  which  any  act  or  habit  is  to  be  judged.  On 
this  ground,  the  quest  of  pleasure  becomes  the  prime, 
or  rather  the  only  duty.  "Do  that  you  may  enjoy," 
is  the  fundamental  maxim  of  morality.  There  is  no 
intrinsic  or  permanent  distinction  between  right  and 
wrong.  Individual  experience  alone  can  determine 
the  right,  which  varies  according  to  the  differences  of 
taste,  temperament,  or  culture.  There  are,  however, 
some  pleasures  which  are  more  than  counterbalanced 
by  the  pains  incurred  in  procuring  them,  or  by  those 
occasioned  by  them ;  and  there  are,  also,  pains  which 
are  the  means  of  pleasures  greater  than  themselves. 
The  wise  man,  therefore,  will  measure  and  govern  his 
conduct,  not  by  the  pleasure  of  the  moment,  but  with 
reference  to  the  future  and  ultimate  effects  of  acts, 
habits,  and  courses  of  conduct,  upon  his  happiness. 
What  are  called  the  virtues,  as  justice,  temperance, 


PLEASURE  ACCORDING   TO  EPICURUS.      199 

chastity,  are  in  themselves  no  better  than  their  oppo- 
8ites ;  but  experience  has  shown  that  they  increase 
the  aggregate  of  pleasure,  and  diminish  the  aggregate 
of  pain.  Therefore,  and  therefore  alone,  they  are 
duties.  The  great  worth  of  philosophy  consists  in  its 
enabling  men  to  estimate  the  relative  duration,  and 
the  permanent  consequences,  as  well  as  the  immediate 
intensity,  of  every  form  of  pleasure. 

Epicurus  specifies  two  kinds  of  pleasure,  that  of 
rest  and  that  of  motion.  He  prefers  the  former. 
Action  has  its  reaction ;  excitement  is  followed  by 
depression  ;  effort,  by  weariness ;  thought  for  others 
involves  the  disturbance  of  one's  own  peace.  The 
gods,  according  to  Epicurus,  lead  an  easy,  untroubled 
life,  leave  the  outward  universe  to  take  care  of  itself, 
are  wholly  indifferent  to  human  affairs,  and  are  made 
ineffably  happy  by  the  entire  absence  of  labor,  want, 
and  care  ;  and  man  becomes  most  godlike  and  most 
happy,  therefore  most  virtuous,  when  he  floats  through 
life,  unharming  and  unharmed,  idle  and  useless,  seK- 
contained  and  self-sufficing,  simple  in  his  tastes,  mod- 
erate in  his  requirements,  frugal  in  his  habits. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  Epicurus  denoted  by 
pleasure,  1  mere  physical  pleasure  alone.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  his  later  followers  regarded  the  pleasures  of 
the  body  as  the  only  good  ;  and  Cicero  says  that  Epi- 
curus himself  referred  all  the  pleasures  of  the  iutel- 
lect  to  the  memory  of  past  and  the  hope  of  future 
sensual  gratification.     Yet  there  is  preserved  an   ex- 


200  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

tract  of  a  letter  from  Epicurus,  in  which  he  says  that 
his  own  bodily  pains  in  his  years  of  decrepitude  are 
outweighed  by  the  pleasure  derived  from  the  memory 
of  his  philosophical  labors  and  discoveries. 

Epicureanism  numbered  among  its  disciples, 
not  only  men  of  approved  virtue,  but  not  a  few, 
like  Pliny  the  Younger,  of  a  more  active  type  of  vir- 
tue than  Epicurus  would  have  deemed  consistent 
with  pleasure.  But  in  lapse  of  time  it  became  the 
pretext  and  cover  for  the  grossest  sensuality;  and 
the  associations  which  the  unlearned  reader  has  with 
the  name  are  only  strengthened  by  conversance  with 
the  literature  to  which  it  gave  birth.  Horace  is  its 
poet-laureate  ;  and  he  was  evidently  as  sincere  in  his 
philosophy  as  he  was  licentious  in  his  life.  There  is 
a  certain  charm  in  good  faith  and  honesty,  even  when 
on  the  side  of  wrong  and  vice  ;  and  it  is  his  perfect 
frankness,  self-complacency,  nay,  self-praise,  in  a 
aensuality  which  in  plain  prose  would  seem  by  turns 
vapid  and  disgusting,  that  makes  Horace  even  peril- 
ously fascinating,  so  that  the  guardians  of  the  public 
morals  may  well  be  thankful  that  for  the  young  the 
approach  to  him  is  warded  off  by  the  formidable  bar- 
riers of  grammar  and  dictionary. 

While  Epicureanism  thus  generated,  on  the  one 
hand,  in  men  of  the  world  laxity  of  moral  principle 
and  habit,  on  the  other  hand,  in  minds  of  a  moio 
contemplative  cast,  it  lapsed  into  atheism.  From 
otiose  gods,  careless  of  human  affairs,  the  transition 
was  natural   to  a   belief  in  no  gods.     The  universe 


THE  STOICS.  201 

which  could  preserve  and  govern  itself,  could  certainly 
have  sprung  into  uncaused  existence  ;  for  the  tenden- 
cies which,   without  a  supervising    power,  maintain 
order  in  nature,  continuity  in  change,  ever-new   life 
evolved  from  incessant  death,  must   be  inherent   ten- 
dencies to  combination,  harmony,   and  organization, 
and  thus  may  account  for  the  origin  of   the  system 
which  they  sustain  and  renew.     This  type  of  atheism 
has  its  most  authentic  exposition  in  the  "  De  Rerum 
Natura"  of  Lucretius.     He   does   not,    in    so   many 
words,    deny   the   being   of  the   gods,  —  he,   indeed, 
speaks  of    them  as  leading   restful   lives,  withdrawn 
from,  all  care  of  mortal  affairs  ;  but  he  so  scoffs  at  all 
practical  recognition  of  them,  and  so  jeers  at  the  rev- 
erence and  awe  professed  for  them  by  the  multitude, 
that  we  are  constrained  to  regard  them  as  rather  the 
imagery  of  his  verse  than  the  objects  of  his   faith. 
He    maintains    the   past  eternity    of   matter,   which 
consists  of  atoms  or  monads  of  various  forms.     These, 
drifting  about  in  space,  and  impinging  upon  one  an- 
other, by  a  series  of  happy  chances,  fell  into  orderl;y 
relations  and  close-fitting  S'ymmetries,  whence,  in  suc- 
cession, and  by  a  necessity  inherent  in  the  primitive 
atoms,  came  organization,  life,  instinct,  love,  reason, 
wisdom.      This    poem  has   a  peculiar  value   at   the 
present  day,  as   closely  coincident   in  its  cosmogony 
with  one  of  the   most  recent  phases  of  physical  phi- 
losophy, and  showing  that  what  calls  itself  progress 
may  be  motion  in  a  circle. 

The  Stoics,  8(j  called  from  a  portico  ^  adorned  with 

'    Stoo.. 


202  MORAl   PHILOSOPHY. 

magnificent  paintings  by  Polygnotus,  in  which  their 
doctrines  were  first  taught,  owe  their  origin  to  Zeno, 
who  lived  to  a  very  great  age,  illustrious  for  seK-con- 
trol,  temperance,  and  the  severest  type  of  virtue,  and 
at  length,  in  accordance  with  a  favorite  dogma  and 
practice  of  his  school,  when  he  found  that  he  had  be- 
fore him  only  growing  infirmity  with  no  hope  of  res- 
toration, terminated  his  life  by  his  own  hand. 

Accordmg  to  the  Stoic  philosophy,  virtue  is  the 
sole  end  of  life,  and  virtue  is  the  conformity  of  the 
will  and  conduct  to  universal  nature.  Virtue  alone  is 
good  ;  vice  alone  is  evil ;  and  whatever  is  neither  vir- 
tue nor  vice  is  neither  good  nor  evil  in  itself,  but  is 
to  be  sought  or  shunned,  according  as  it  is  auxiliary 
to  virtue  or  conducive  to  vice,  —  if  neither,  to  be  re- 
garded with  utter  indifference.  Virtue  is  indivisible. 
It  does  not  admit  of  degrees.  He  who  only  approxi- 
mates to  virtue,  however  closely,  is  yet  to  be  regarded 
as  outside  of  its  pale.  Only  the  wise  man  can  be 
virtuous.  He  needs  no  precepts  of  duty.  His  intui- 
tions are  always  to  be  trusted.  His  sense  of  right 
cannot  be  blinded  or  misled.  As  for  those  who  do 
not  occupy  this  high  philosophic  ground,  though  they 
cannot  be  really  virtuous,  they  yet  may  present  some 
show  and  semblance  of  virtue,  and  they  may  be 
aided  in  this  by  precepts  and  ethical  instruction.^     It 

1  The  words  employed  by  the  Stoics  to  indicate  specific  duties,  as  pre- 
sented to  the  common  understanding,  recognize  intrinsic  fitness  as  the 
ground  of  right.  These  duties  are  termed  in  Greek,  naBriKovra,  that  is,  be- 
fitting, and  in  Latin,  -fficin,  from  ob  and/aoo,  that  which  is  done  ob  aU- 
yuid,  for  some  assignable  reason. 


STOICISM  IN  ROME.  208 

was  for  the  benefit  of  those  who,  on  account  of  theii 
lack  of  true  wisdom,  needed  such  direction,  and  were 
at  the  same  time  so  well  disposed  as  to  receive  and 
follow  it,  that  treatises  on  practical  morahty  were 
written  by  many  of  the  later  Stoics,  and  that  in 
Rome  there  were  teachers  of  this  school  who  exer- 
cised functions  closely  analogous  to  those  of  the  Chris- 
tian preacher  and  pastor. 

Stoicism   found   its   most  congenial   soil   in   the 
stern,  hardy    integrity  and  patriotism  of  those  Ro- 
mans, whose  incorruptible  virtue  is  the  one  redeeming 
feature  of  the  dechning  days  of  the  RepubUc  and  the 
effeminacy  and  coarse  depravity  of  the  Empire.     Sen- 
eca's ethical  writings  ^  are  almost  Christian,  not  only 
in  their  faithful  rebuke  of  every  form  of  wrong,  but 
in  their  tender  humanity  for  the  poor,  the  slaves,  the 
victims  of  oppression,  in  their  universal  philanthropy, 
and  in    their    precepts   of  patience    under   suffering, 
forbearance,  forgiveness,  and  returning  good  for  evil. 
Epictetus,    the   deformed   slave   of  a   capricious  and 

1  How  far  Seneca's  character  was  represented  by  his  philosophy  is,  we 
believe,  a  fairly  open  question.  That  the  beginning  and  the  close  of  his 
career  were  in  accordance  with  his  teachings,  is  certain.  That  as  a  coui> 
tier,  he  was  in  suspicious  proximity  to,  if  not  in  compiclity  with,  gross 
scandals  and  crimes,  is  equally  certain.  The  evidence  against  him  is 
weighty,  but  by  no  means  conclusive.  He  may  have  lingered  in  the  pur- 
Ueus  of  the  palace  in  fond  memory  of  what  Nero  had  been  in  the  prom- 
ise of  his  youth,  and  in  the  groundless  hope  of  bringing  him  again  undei 
mere  humane  influences.  This  supposition  is  rendered  the  more  probable 
by  the  well-known  fact,  that  during  his  whole  court  life,  and  notwith- 
standing his  great  wealth,  Seneca's  personal  habits  were  almost  those  o< 
an  anchorite. 


204  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

cruel  master,  beaten  and  crippled  in  mere  wantonness^ 
enfranchised  in  his  latter  years,  only  to  be  driven  into 
exile  and  to  sound  the  lowest  depths  of  poverty,  ex- 
hibited a  type  of  lieroic  virtue  which  has  hardly  been 
equalled,  perhaps  never  transcended  by  a  mere  mor- 
tal ;  and  though  looking,  as  has  been  already  said,  to 
annihilation  as  the  goal  of  hfe,  he  maintained  a  spirit 
so  joyous,  and  has  left  in  his  writings  so  attractive  a 
picture  of  a  soul  serenely  and  supremely  happy,  that 
he  has  given  support  and  consolation  to  multitudes  of 
the  bravest  and  best  disciples  of  the  heaven-born  re- 
ligion, which  he  can  have  known  —  if  at  all  —  only 
through  its  slanderers  and  persecutors.  Marcus  Au- 
relius,  in  a  kindred  spirit,  and  under  the  even  heavier 
burdens  of  a  tottering  empire,  domestic  dissensions, 
and  defeat  and  disaster  abroad,  maintained  the  sever- 
est simplicity  and  purity  of  life,  appropriated  portions 
of  his  busiest  days  to  devout  contemplation,  medi- 
tated constantly  on  death,  and  disciplined  himself  to 
regard  with  contempt  alike  the  praise  of  flatterers 
and  the  contingency  of  posthumous  fame.  We  have, 
especially  in  Nero's  reign,  the  record  of  not  a  few 
men  and  women  of  like  spirit  and  character,  whose 
lofty  and  impregnable  virtue  lacked  only  loving  faith 
and  undoubting  trust  in  a  fatherly  Providence  to  as- 
similate them  to  the  foremost  among  the  Apostles  and 
martyrs  of  the  Christian  Church. 

The  Sceptical  school  of  philosophy  claims  in  this 
connection  a  brief  notice.  Though  so  identified  in 
common  speech  with  the  name  of  a  single  philosopher. 


THE  KEW  ACADEMY.  2U5 

that  Pyrrhonism  is  a  synonyme  for  Scepticism,  it  was 
much  older  than  Pyrrho,  and  greatly  outnumbered 
his  avowed  followers.  It  was  held  by  the  teachers  of 
this  school  that  objective  truth  is  unattainable.  Not 
only  do  the  perceptions  and  conceptions  of  different 
persons  vary  as  to  every  object  of  knowledge ;  but 
the  perceptions  and  conceptions  of  the  same  persons 
as  to  the  same  object  vary  at  different  times.  Nay, 
more,  at  the  same  time  one  sense  conveys  impressions 
which  another  sense  may  negative,  and  not  infre- 
quently the  reflective  faculty  negatives  all  the  im- 
pressions derived  from  the  senses,  and  forms  a  concep- 
tion entirely  unlike  that  which  would  have  taken 
shape  through  the  organs  of  sense.  The  soul  that  seeks 
to  know,  is  thus  in  constant  agitation.  But  happiness 
consists  in  imperturbableness  of  spirit,  that  is,  in  sus- 
pense of  judgment  ;  and  as  it  is  our  duty  to  promote 
our  own  happiness,  it  is  our  duty  to  live  without  de- 
sire or  fear,  preference  or  abhorrence,  love  or  hatred, 
m  entire  apathy,  —  a  life  of  which  Mohammed's  fa- 
bled coffin  is  the  fittest  symbol. 

The  New  Academy,  whose  philosophy  was  a  hy- 
brid of  Platonism  and  Pyrrhonism,  while  it  denied  the 
possibility  of  ascertaining  objective  truth,  yet  taught 
tKat  on  all  subjects  of  speculative  philosophy  proba- 
^nlity  is  attainable,  and  that,  if  the  subject  in  hand 
be  one  which  admits  of  being  acted  upon,  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  moral  agent  to  act  in  accordance  with 
probability,  —  to  pursue  the  course  in  behalf  of  which 
the  more  and  the  better  reasons  can  be  given.     There 


206  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

are  moral  acts  and  habits  which  seem  to  be  in  accord- 
ance with  reason  and  the  nature  of  things.  We  may- 
be mistaken  in  thinking  them  so  ;  yet  the  probability 
that  they  are  so  creates  a  moral  obligation  in  their 
favor.  The  New  Academy  professed  a  hypothetical 
acquiescence  in  the  ethics  of  the  Peripatetic  school, 
maintaining,  therefore,  that  the  mean  between  two 
extremes  is  probably  in  accordance  with  right  and 
duty,  and  that  virtue  is  probably  man's  highest  good, 
yet  probably  not  sufficient  in  itself  without  the  addi- 
tion of  exterior  advantages. 

Cicero  considered  himself  as  belonging  to  the  New 
Academy.  His  instincts  as  an  advocate,  often  in- 
duced by  professional  exigencies  to  deny  what  he  had 
previously  affirmed,  made  the  scepticism  of  this  school 
congenial  to  him  ;  while  his  love  of  elegant  ease  and 
luxury  and  his  lack  of  moral  courage  were  in  closer 
harmony  with  the  practical  ethics  of  the  Peripatetics 
than  with  the  more  rigid  system  of  the  Stoics.  At 
the  same  time,  his  pure  moral  taste  and  his  sincere 
reverence  for  the  right  brought  him  into  sympathy 
with  the  Stoic  school.  His  "  De  Officiis  "  is  an  ex- 
position of  the  Stoic  system  of  ethics,  though  by  the 
professed  disciple  of  another  philosophy.  It  is  as  if 
a  Mohammedan,  without  disclaiming  his  own  religion, 
should  undertake  an  exposition  of  the  ethics  of  Chris- 
tianity, on  the  ground  that,  though  Mohammed  was 
a  genuine  prophet,  there  was,  nevertheless,  a  higher 
and  purer  morality  in  the  New  Testament  than  in 
the  Koran 


CHAPTER   XV. 
MODERN   HIS  TORY   OF  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

FOR  several    centuries  after   the  destruction  of 
the  Western  Empire,  philosophy  had  hardly  an 
existence  except  in  its  records,  and  these  were  pre- 
served chiefly  for  their  parchment,  Ijalf-effaced,  cov- 
ered by  what  took  the  place  of  literature  in  the  (so 
called)  Dark  Ages,  and  at  length  deciphered  by  such 
minute  and  wearisome  toil  as  only  mediasval  cloisters 
have  ever  furnished.     For  a  long  period,  monasteries 
were  the  only  schools,  and  in  these  the  learned  men  of 
the  day  were,  either  successively  or  alternately,  learn- 
ers  and  teachers,  whence  the    appellation  of  School- 
men,    The  learned    men  who  bear  this  name  were 
fond  of  casuistry,  and  discussed  imagined  and  often 
impossible  cases  with  great  pains  (their  readers  would 
have  greater)  ;  but,  so  far  as  we  know,  they  have  left 
no  systematic  treatises  on  moral  philosophy,  and  have 
transmitted  no  system  that  owes  to  them  its  distin- 
guishing features.     Yet  we  find  among  them  a  very 
broad  division  of  opinion  as  to  the  ground  of  right. 
The  fundamental  position  of  the  Stoics,  that  virtue 
is  conformity  to  nature,  and  thus  independent  of  ex- 
press legislation,  — not   created   by  law,    human    or 
divine,  but  the  source   and  origin  of  law,  —  had  its 


208  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

champions,  strong,  but  few  ;  while  the  Augustinian 
theology,  then  almost  universal,  replaced  Epicurean- 
ism in  its  denial  of  the  intrinsic  and  indelible  moral 
qualities  of  actions.  The  extreme  Augustinians  re- 
garded the  positive  command  of  God  as  the  sole  cause 
and  ground  of  right,  so  that  the  very  things  which 
are  forbidden  under  the  severest  penalties  would 
become  virtuous  and  commendable,  if  enjoined  by 
Divine  authority.  William  of  Ockham,  one  of  the 
most  illustrious  of  the  English  Schoolmen,  wrote :  "If 
God  commanded  his  creatures  to  hate  himself,  the 
hatred  of  God  would  be  the  dut}^  of  man." 

The  earliest  modern  theory  of  morals  that  pre 
sented  striking  peculiarities  was  that  of  Hobbes 
(a.  d.  1588-1679),  who  was  indebted  solely  to  the 
stress  of  his  time,  alike  for  his  system  and  for  what- 
ever slender  following  it  may  have  had.  He  was  from 
childhood  a  staunch  royalist,  was  shortly  after  leaving 
the  University  the  tutor  of  a  loyal  nobleman,  and, 
afterward,  of  Charles  II.  during  the  early  years  of  his 
exile ;  and  the  parliamentary  and  Puritan  outrages 
seemed  to  him  to  be  aimed  at  all  that  was  august  and 
reverend,  and  adapted  to  overturn  society,  revert 
progress,  and  crush  civilization.  According  to  him, 
men  are  by  nature  one  another's  enemies,  and  can  be 
restrained  from  internecine  hostility  only  by  force  or 
fear.  An  instinctive  perception  of  this  truth  in  the 
infancy  of  society  gave  rise  to  monarchical  and  abso- 
lute forms  of  government  ;  for  only  by  thus  central- 
izing and  massing   power,   which  could   be  directed 


CUD  WORT II.  i^uy 

against  anj  disturber  of  the  peace,  could  the  individ- 
ual members  of  society  hold  property  or  life  in  safety. 
The  king  thus  reigns  by  right  of  human  necessity, 
and  obedience  to  him  and  to  constituted  authorities 
under  him  is  man's  whole  duty,  and  the  sum  of  virtue. 
Might  creates  right.  Conscience  is  but  another  name 
for  the  fear  of  punishment.  The  intimate  connection 
of  religion  with  civil  freedom  in  the  English  Com- 
monwealth no  doubt  went  far  in  uprooting  in  Hobbes 
all  religious  faith ;  and  while  he  did  not  openly  attack 
Christianity,  he  maintained  the  duty  of  entire  con- 
formity to  the  monarch's  religion,  whatever  it  might 
be,  which  is  of  course  tantamount  to  the  denial  of 
objective  religious  truth. ^ 

Hobbes  may  fairly  be  regarded  as  the  father  of 
modern  ethical  philosophy,  —  not  that  he  had  chil- 
dren after  his  own  likeness  ;  but  his  speculations  were 
so  revolting  equally  to  thinking  and  to  serious  men, 
as  to  arouse  inquiry  and  stimulate  mental  activity  in 
a  department  previously  neglected. 

The  gauntlet  thus  thrown  down  by  Hobbes  was 
taken  up  by  Cudworth  (a.  d.  1617-1688),  the  most 
learned  man  of  his  time,  whose  *'  Intellectual  System 
of  the  Universe  "  is  a  prodigy  of  erudition,  —  a  work 

1  Spinoza's  ethical  system  was  closely  parallel  to  that  of  Hobbes.  Ho 
'lenied  the  intrinsic  difference  between  right  and  wrung  ;  but  ha  re- 
corded aristocracy  as  the  natural  order  of  society.  With  him,  as  with 
Hobbes,  virtue  consists  solely  in  obedience  to  constituted  authority  ;  and 
H*j  utterly  did  he  ignore  a  higher  law,  that  he  maintained  it  to  be  the  right 
of  a  state  to  abjure  a  treaty  with  another  state,  when  its  terms  ceased  to 
be  convenient  or  protitable. 
14 


210  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

in  which  his  own  thought  is  so  blocked  up  with  quotjv- 
tions,  authorities,  and  masses  of  recondite  lore,  that  it 
is  hardly  possible  to  trace  the  windings  of  the  rivei  for 
the  debris  of  auriferous  rocks  that  obstruct  its  flow. 
Tlie  treatise  with  which  we   are    concerned   is    that 

)n  ''  Eternal  and  Immutable  Morality."  In  this  he 
maintains  that  the  right  exists,  independently  of  all 
authority,  by  the  very  nature  of  things,  in  co-eternity 
with  the  Supreme  Being.  So  far  is  he  from  admit- 
ting the  possibility  of  any  dissiliency  between  the 
Divine  will  and  absolute  right,  that  he  turns  the  ta- 
bles on  his  opponents,  and  classes  among  Atheists 
those  of  his  contemporaries  who  maintain  that  God 
can  command  what  is  contrary  to  the  intrinsic  right ; 
that  He  has  no  inclination  to  the  good  of  his  crea- 
tures ;  that  He  can  justly  doom  an  innocent  being  to 
eternal  torments  ;  or  that  whatever  God  wills  is  just 
because  He  wills  it. 

Samuel  Clarke  (a.  d.  1675-1729)  followed  Cud- 
worth  in  the  same  line  of  thought.  He  was,  it  is  be- 
lieved, the  first  writer  who  employed  the  term  fitness 
as  defining  the  ground  of  the  immutable  and  eternal 
right,  though  the  idea  of  fitness  necessarily  underlies 
every  system  or  theory  that  assigns  to  virtue  intrinsic 
validity. 

Shaftesbury  (A.  D.  1671-1713)  represents  virtue 
as  residing,  not  in  the  nature  or  relations  of  things, 
but  in  the  bearing  of  actions  on  the  welfare  or  happi- 
'iesH  of   beings  other    than    the   actor.     Benevolence 

onstitutes  virtue  ;  and   the  merit  of  the  action  and 


ADA.yf  SMITH.  211 

of  the  actor  is  dptermined  by  the  degree  in  which  par- 
ticular aiTections  are  raerged  in  general  philanthropy, 
and  reference  is  had,  not  to  indi\iiliial  beneficiaries  or 
benefits,  but  to  the  whole  system  of  things  of  which 
the  actor  forms  a  part.  The  affections  from  which 
such  acts  spring  commend  tliemselves  to  the  moral 
sense,  and  ai"e  of  necessity  objects  uf  esteem  and 
love.  But  the  moral  sense  takes  cognizance  of  the 
affections  only,  not  of  the  acts  themselves  ;  and  as 
the  conventional  standard  of  the  desirable  and  the 
useful  varies  with  race,  time,  and  culture,  the  acts 
which  the  affections  prompt,  and  which  therefore  are 
virtuous,  may  be  in  one  age  or  country  such  as  the 
people  of  another  century  or  land  may  repudiate  with 
loathing.  Las  Casas,  in  introducing  negro  slavery 
into  America,  with  the  fervently  benevolent  purpose 
of  relieving  the  hardsliips  of  the  feeble  and  overtasked 
aborigines,  pei*formed,  according  to  this  theory,  a  vir- 
tuous act ;  but  had  he  once  considered  the  question  of 
intrinsic  right  or  natural  fitness,  a  name  so  worthily 
honored  would  never  have  been  associated  with  the 
foulest  crime  of  modern  civilization. 

According  to  Adam  Smith  (a.  d.  1723-1790), 
moral  distinctions  depend  wholly  on  sj^mpathy.  Wo 
api)rove  in  others  what  corresponds  to  our  own  tastei 
a^'.'3  habits  ;  we  disapprove  whatever  is  opposed  to 
them.  As  to  our  own  conduct,  *'  we  suppose  oui- 
selves,"  he  ^vrites,  ^'  the  spectators  of  our  own  behav- 
ior and  endeavor  to  imagine  what  effect  it  would  in 
this  light  produce  in  us."     Our  sense  of  duty  is  dc^* 


»J12  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

rived  wholly  from  our  thus  putting  ourselves  in  the 
place  of  others,  and  hiquiring  what  they  would  ap- 
prove in  us.  Conscience,  then,  is  a  collective  and 
corporate,  not  an  iiidi'vidual  faculty.  It  is  created  by 
the  prevalent  opinions  of  the  community.  Solitary 
virtue  there  cannot  be  ;  for  without  sympathy  there 
is  no  self-approval.  By  parit}'  of  reason,  the  duty  of 
the  individual  can  never  transcend  the  average  con- 
science of  the  community.  This  theory  describes  so- 
ciety as  it  is,  not  as  it  ought  to  be.  We  are,  to  a  sad 
degree,  conventional  in  our  practice,  much  more  so 
than  in  our  beliefs  ;  but  it  is  the  part  of  true  manli- 
ness to  have  the  conscience  an  interior,  not  an  exter- 
nal organ,  to  form  and  actualize  notions  of  right  and 
duty  for  one's  self,  and  to  stand  and  walk  alone,  if 
need  there  be,  as  there  manifestly  is  in  not  a  few  crit- 
ical moments,  and  as  there  is  uot  infrequently  in  the 
inward  experience  of  every  man  who  means  to  do  his 
duty. 

Butler  (A.  D.  1692-1752),  in  his  "  Ethical  Dis- 
courses," aims  mainly  and  successfully  to  demonstrate 
the  rightful  supremacy  of  conscience.  His  favorite 
conception  is  of  the  human  being  as  himself  a  house- 
hold [an  economy'],  —  the  various  propensities,  appe- 
tites, passions,  and  affections,  the  members,  —  Con- 
science, the  head,  recognized  as  such  by  all,  so  that 
there  is,  when  her  sovereignty  is  owned,  an  ijiward 
repose  and  satisfaction  ;  when  she  is  disobeyed,  a  sense 
of  discord  and  rebelhon,  of  unrest  and  disturbance. 
This  is  sound  and  mdisputable,  and  it  cannot  be  more 


Pd CHARD   PRICE.  213 

clearly  stated  or  more  vividly  illustrated  than  by  But- 
ler ;  but  he  manifestly  regards  conscience  as  legislator 
no  less  than  judge,  and  thus  fails  to  recognize  any 
objective  standard  oi  right  It  is  evident  that  on  his 
ground  there  is  no  criterion  by  which  honestly  erro- 
neous moral  judgments  can  be  revised,  or  by  which  a 
discrimination  can  be  made  between  the  results  of 
education  or  involuntary  prejudice,  and  the  right  as 
determined  by  the  nature  of  things  and  the  standard 
of  intrinsic  fitness. 

Of  all  modern  ethical  writers  since  the  time  of 
Cudworth  and  Clarke,  none  so  much  as  approaches 
the  position  occupied  by  Richard  Price  (a.  d.  1723- 
1791),  a  London  dissenting  divine,  a  warm  advocate 
of  American  independence,  and  the  intimate  friend  of 
John  Adams.  He  maintained  that  right  and  wrong 
are  mherent  and  necessary,  immutable  and  eternal 
characteristics,  not  dependent  on  will  or  command,  but 
on  the  intrinsic  nature  of  the  act,  and  determined  with 
unerring  accuracy  by  conscience,  whenever  the  nature 
of  the  case  is  clearly  known.  "  Morality,"  he  writes, 
*'  is  fixed  on  an  immovable  basis,  and  appears  not  to  be 
in  any  sense  factitious,  or  the  arbitrar}^  production  of 
any  power,  human  or  divine  ;  but  equally  everlasting 
and  necessary  with  all  truth  and  reason."  "  Virtue 
is  of  intrinsic  value  and  of  indispensable  obligation  ; 
not  the  creature  of  will,  but  necessary  and  immutable ; 
not  local  and  temporary,  but  of  equal  extent  and  an- 
tiquity with  the  Divine  mind ;  not  dependent  on 
power,  but  the  guide  of  all  power."  ^ 
1  Pricp'p  theor>'  of  morals  is  developed  with  singular  precision  and  force 


214  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY, 

Paley  (A.  D.  1743-1805)  gives  a  definition  of  vir- 
tue, remarkable  for  its  combination  of  three  partial 
theories.  Virtue,  according  to  him,  is  ''  the  doing 
good  to  mankind,  in  obedience  to  the  will  of  God, 
and  for  the  sake  of  everlasting  happiness."  Of  this 
h'finition  it  may  be  said,  1.  The  doing  good  to  man- 
kind is  indeed  virtue;  but  it  is  by  no  means  the  whole 
of  virtue.  2.  Obedience  to  the  will  of  God  is  our 
duty  ;  but  it  is  so,  because  his  will  must  of  necessity 
be  in  accordance  with  the  fitting  and  right.  Could 
we  conceive  of  Omnipotence  commanding  what  is  in- 
trinsically unfit  and  wrong,  the  virtuous  man  would 
not  be  the  God-server,  but  the  Prometheus  suffering 
the  implacable  vengeance  of  an  unrighteous  Deity. 
3.  Though  everlasting  happiness  be  the  result  of  vir- 
tue, it  is  not  the  ground  or  the  reason  for  it.  Were 
our  being  earth-limited,  virtue  would  lose  none  of  its 
obligation.  Epictetus  led  as  virtuous  a  life  as  if 
heaven  had  been  open  to  his  faith  and  hope.  —  Pa- 
ley's  system  may  be  described  in  detail  as  Shaftes- 
bury's, with  an  external  washing  of  Christianity ; 
Shaftesbury  having  been  what  was  called  a  free- 
thinker, while  Pale}'  was  a  sincere  believer  in  the 
Christian  revelation,  and  contributed  largely  and  efii- 
ciently  to  the  defence  of  Christianity  and  the  illus- 
tration of  its  records.  Tlie  cliief  merit  of  Paley 's 
treatise  on  Moral  Philosophy  is  tliat  it  clearly  and 
emphatir-ally   recogni/.es  tlie  Divine  authority  of  the 

in  one  of  the  BaccHlaureat*-  A.lilr»>s>»fs  nf  tin-  lat**  President  Appletco,  of 
Bowdoin  Colletfe. 


JEREMY  BENT  HAM.  215 

moral  teachings  of  the  New  Testament,  though  in 
expounding  them  the  author  too  frequently  dilutes 
them  by  considerations  of  expediency. 

Jeremy  Bentham  (A.  D.  1747-1832)  is  Paley  mi- 
nus Christianity.  The  greatest  good  of  the  greatest 
number  is,  according  to  him,  the  ainj  and  criterion  of 
virtue.  Moral  rules  should  be  constructed  with  this 
sole  end  ;  and  this  should  be  the  pervading  purpose  of 
all  legislation.  Benthani's  works  are  very  volumi- 
nous, and  they  cover,  wisely  and  well,  almost  every 
department  of  domestic,  social,  public,  and  national 
life.  The  worst  that  can  be  said  of  his  political  writ- 
ings is  that  they  are  in  advance  of  the  age,  — literally 
Utopian  ;  ^  but  it  would  be  well  with  the  country 
which  was  prepared  to  embody  his  views.  But,  un- 
fortunately,  his  principles  have  no  power  of  self-real- 
ization. They  are  like  a  watch,  perfect  in  all  other 
parts,  but  without  the  mainspring.  Bentham  contem- 
plates the  individual  man  as  an  agency,  rather  than 
as  an  intellectual  and  moral  integer.  H^  must  work 
under  yoke  and  harness  for  ends  vast  and  remote, 
beyond  the  appreciation  of  ordinary  mortals  ;  and  he 
must  hold  all  partial  affections  and  nearer  aims  subor- 
dinate to  rules  deduced  by  sages  and  legislators  from 
considerations  of  general  utility.  Bentham's  influ- 
ence on  legislation,  especially  on  criminal  law,  ha? 
been  beneficially  felt  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. 
In  the  department  of  pure  ethics,  there  are  no  essen 

1  Ovroarec. 


216  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

tial  points  of  difference  between  him  and  other  writers 
of  the  utilitarian  school. ^ 


In  France  there  has  been  a  large  preponderance  of 
sensualism,  expediency,  and  selfishness  in  the  ethical 
systems  that  have  had  the  most  extensive  currency. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  elaborate  ethical  specula- 
tion and  theory  among  the  French  philosophers  of  the 
last  century ;  but  among  them  we  cannot  recall  a 
single  writer  who  maintained  a  higher  ground  than 
B en tham,  except  that  Rousseau  —  perhaps  the  most 
immoral  of  them  all  —  who  was  an  Epicurean  so  far 
as  he  had  any  philosophy,  sometimes  soars  in  senti- 
mental rhapsodies  about  the  intrinsic  beauty  and  love- 
liness of  a  virtue  which  he  knew  only  by  name. 

Malebranche  (a.  d.  1638-1714),  whose  principal 
writings  belong  to  the  previous  century,  represents 
entirely  opposite  views  and  tendencies.  He  hardly 
differs  from  Samuel  Clarke,  except  in  phraseology. 
He  resolves  virtue  into  love  of  the  universal  order, 
and  conformity  to  it  in  conduct.     This  order  requires 

1  The  reader  who  is  conversant  with  the  literature  of  ethics  in  England 
and  America  will  miss  in  this  chapter  many  names  which  merit  a  place  by 
the  side  of  those  that  have  been  given.  But  within  the  limits  proposed 
for  this  manual,  the  alternative  was  to  select  a  few  writers  among  those 
•who  have  largely  influenced  the  thought  of  tlieir  own  and  su<cceeding 
times,  and  to  associate  with  each  "f  them  something  that  should  mark  his 
individuality;  or  to  make  the  chapti  r  little  more  than  a  catalogue  of  names. 
The  former  is  evidently  the  more  judicious  course.  Nothing  has  been  said 
of  living  writers,  —  not  because  there  are  none  who  deserve  an  honored 
place  among  the  contributors  to  this  department  of  science,  but  because, 
were  the  list  to  be  once  opened,  we  should  hardly  know  where  to  close  it- 


Ff.NELON  AND  BOSSUET.  217 

that  we  should  prize  and  love  all  beings  and  objects 
in  proportion  to  their  relative  worth,  and  that  we 
should  recognize  this  relative  worth  in  our  rules  and 
Laoits  of  life.  Thus  man  is  to  be  more  highly  valued 
and  more  assiduously  served  than  the  lower  animals, 
because  worth  more  ;  and  God  is  to  be  loved  infinitely 
more  than  man,  and  to  be  always  obeyed  and  served 
in  preference  to  man,  because  he  is  worth  immeasura- 
bly more  than  the  beings  that  derive  their  existence 
from  him.  Malebranche  ascribes  to  the  Supreme 
Being,  not  the  arbitrary  exercise  of  power  in  consti- 
tuting the  right,  but  recognition,  in  his  government 
of  the  world  and  in  his  revealed  will,  of  the  order, 
which  is  man's  sole  law.  ''  Sovereign  princes,"  he 
says,  "  have  no  right  to  use  their  authority  without 
reason.     Even  God  has  no  such  miserable  right." 

At  nearly  the  same  period  commenced  the  ethical 
controversy  between  Fenelon  (A.  D.  1651-1715)  and 
Bossuet  (A.  D.  1627-1704),  as  to  the  possibility  and 
obligation  of  disinterested  virtue.  Fenelon  and  the 
Quietists,  who  sympathized  with  him,  maintained 
that  the  pure  love  of  God,  without  any  self-reference, 
or  regard  for  one's  own  well-being  either  here  or  here- 
after, is  the  goal  and  the  test  of  human  perfection, 
and  that  nothing  below  this  —  nothing  which  aims  or 
aspires  at  anything  less  than  this  —  deserves  the 
name  of  virtue.  Bossuet  defended  the  selfish  theory 
of  virtue,  attacked  his  amiable  antagonist  with  uncon- 
scionable severity  and  bitterness,  and  succeeded  in 
obtaining  from  the  court  of  Rome  —  though  against 


218  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

the  wiskes  of  the  Pope  —  the  condemnation  of  the 
obnoxious  tenet.  The  Pope  remarked,  with  well- 
turned  antithesis,  that  Fenelon  might  have  erred 
from  excess  in  the  love  of  God,  while  Bossuet  had 
Binned  by  defect  in  the  love  of  his  neighbor. 

Among  the  recent  French  moralists,  the  most  dis- 
tinguished names  are  those  of  JouflEroy  and  Cousin, 
who  —  each  with  a  terminology  of  his  own  —  agree 
with  Malebranche  in  regarding  right  and  wrong  as 
inherent  and  essential  characteristics  of  actions,  and 
as  having  their  source  and  the  ground  of  their  validity 
in  the  nature  of  things.  The  aim  of  Cousin's  well- 
known  treatise  on  "  The  True,  the  Beautiful,  and  the 
Good,"  is  purely  ethical,  and  the  work  is  designed  to 
identify  the  three  members  of  the  Platonic  triad  with 
corresponding  attributes  of  the  Infinite  Being,  —  attri- 
butes which,  virtually  one,  have  their  counterpart  and 
manifestation  in  the  order  of  nature  and  the  govern- 
ment of  the  universe. 

In  Germany,  the  necessarian  philosophers  of  the 
Pantheistic  school  ignore  ethics  by  making  choice  and 
moral  action  impossible.  Man  has  no  distinct  and 
separate  personality.  He  is  for  a  little  while  detached 
in  appearance  from  the  soul  of  the  universe  Qanima 
mundi)^  but  in  reality  no  more  detached  from  it  than 
is  a  boulder  or  a  logr  of  drift-wood  from  the  surface  on 
which  it  rests.  He  still  remains  a  part  of  the  uiu- 
versal  soul,  the  multiform,  all-embracing  God,  who  is 
himself  not  a  self-conscious,  freely  willing  being,  but 


T[VO   CLASSES  OF  ETHICAL   SYSTEMS.      219 

impelled  by  necessity  in  all  his  parts  and  members, 
and,  no  less  than  in  all  else,  in  those  human  members 
through  which  alone  he  attains  to  some  fragmentary 
self -consciousness. 

According  to  Kant,  the  reason  intuitively  discerns 
truths  that  are  necessary,  absolute,  and  universal. 
The  theoretical  reason  discerns  such  truths  in  the 
realm  of  ontology,  and  in  the  relations  and  laws  that 
underlie  all  subjects  of  physical  inquiry.  In  like 
manner,  the  practical  reason  intuitively  perceives  the 
conditions  and  laws  inherent  in  the  objects  of  moral 
action,  —  that  is,  as  Malebranche  would  have  said,  the 
elements  of  universal  order,  or,  in  the  language  of 
Clarke,  the  fitness  of  things.  As  the  mind  must  of 
necessity  contemplate  and  cognize  objects  of  thought 
undei  the  categories  intuitively  discerned  by  the  theo- 
retical reason,  so  must  the  will  be  moved  by  the  con- 
ditions and  laws  intuitively  discerned  by  the  practical 
reason.  This  intuition  is  law  and  obligation.  Man 
can  obey  it,  and  to  obey  it  is  virtue.  He  can  disobey 
it,  and  in  so  doing  he  does  not  yield  to  necessity,  but 
makes  a  voluntary  choice  of  wrong  and  evil. 

It  will  be  perceived  from  the  historical  survey  in 
this  and  the  previous  chapter,  that  —  as  was  said  at 
the  outset  —  all  ethical  systems  resolve  them- 
selves into  the  two  classes  of  which  the  Epicu- 
reans and  the  Stoics  furnished  the  pristine  types, 
—  those  which  make  virtue  an  accident,  a  variable, 
subject  to  authority,  occasion,  or  circumstance  ;  and 


220  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

those  which  endow  it  with  an  intrinsic  right,  immu- 
tableness,  vahdity,  and  supremacy.  On  subjects  of 
fundamental  moment,  opinion  is  ^f  prime  importance. 
Conduct  results  from  feeling,  and  feeling  from  opin- 
ion. We  would  have  the  youth,  from  the  very  earliest 
period  of  his  moral  agency,  grounded  in  the  belief 
that  rignt  and  ^vrong  are  immutable,  —  that  they 
have  no  localities,  no  meridians,  —  that,  with  a  change 
of  surroundings,  their  conditions  and  laws  vary  as 
little  as  do  those  of  planetary  or  stellar  motion.  Let 
him  feel  that  right  and  wrong  are  not  the  mere  dicta 
of  human  teaching,  nay,  are  not  created  even  by  rev- 
elation ;  but  let  their  immutable  distinction  express 
itself  to  his  consciousness  in  those  sublime  words 
which  belong  to  it,  as  personified  in  holy  writ,  '*  Je- 
hovah possessed  me  from  the  beginning  of  his  way, 
before  his  works  of  old.  I  was  set  up  from  everlast- 
ing, from  the  beginning,  or  ever  the  earth  was.  When 
He  prepared  the  heavens,  I  was  there.  When  He 
appointed  the  fomidations  of  the  earth,  then  was  I  by 
Him."  This  conception  of  the  Divine  and  everlast- 
ing sacredness  of  virtue,  is  a  perennial  fountain  of 
strength.  He  who  has  this  does  not  imagine  that  he 
has  power  over  the  Right,  can  sway  it  by  his  choice, 
or  vary  its  standard  by  his  action  ;  but  it  overmasters 
him,  and,  by  subduing,  frees  him,  fills  and  energizes 
his  whole  being,  ennobles  all  his  powers,  exalts  and 
hallows  all  his  affections,  makes  him  a  priest  to  God, 
and  a  king  among  men. 


INDEX. 


PAOB 

Abstinence,  when  to  be  preferred  to  temperance         .        .  1 76 

Academy,  the  New          .        . 205 

Action,  defined 1 

springs  of 10 

governing  principles  of         ....*.  30 

Affections,  the 22 

Anger          . 26 

Anonymous  publications 123 

Appetites,  the 10 

Aristotle,  character  of 197 

Beneficence 143 

Bentham,  Jeremy 215 

Bossuet,  controversy  of,  with  Fenelon         .         .         .         .217 

Brotherhood,  human,  in  its  ethical  relations    ...  56 

Butler 212 

Capital  punishment 66 

Casuistry 187 

Children,  duties  of 121 

Christianity,  a  source  of  knowledge 55 

exhibiting  moral  perfection  in  the  person  of  its  Founder   68 

compared,  as  to  its  ethics,  with  other  religions    .         .  59 

as  a  motive  power 81 

Cicero,  philosophical  relations  of 206 

Clarke,  Sanmel 210 

Conscience,  a  judicial  faculty 41 

educated  by  use 44 

relation  of  knowledge  to 45 

Contracts ,  128 


222  INDEX. 

Courage,  defined 158 

physical    . ^^^ 

moral 1^0 

Cousin 218 

Cudworth •                 •        •  209 

Desire,  defined         .        .        •        •        •        *        •        •  ^2 

of  knowledge ^^ 

of  society ^^ 

of  esteem '  ^ 

of  power '® 

of  superiority '^ 

Duties,  conflict  of    .         .        .  ' ^^^ 

Duty,  limit  of 189 

Enemies,  love  of,  possible *  ^^^ 

Envy 27 

Epictetus,  character  of 203 

Epicureanism 1^^ 

Example,  ethical  value  of m 

Expediency,  an  insufficient  rule  of  conduct         .        .        .31 

when  to  be  consulted        ......  33 

Extreme  cases  in  morals 126 

Falsehood 1^1 

Family,  duties  of  the H^ 

Fenelon,  controversy  of,  with  Bossuet     .         .         .         •  21 7 

Fitness,  the  ground  of  right 36 

Foreknowledge,  Divine,  consistent  with  human  freedom  8 

Freedom  of  the  will,  arguments  for 2 

objections  to * 

Grovernment,  the  essential  function  of         .        •        •        .  1 80 

obedience  to,  how  limited 15^2 

when  to  be  opposed 18^ 

Gratitude 24 

Habit 8^ 

Hatred 28 

Hobbes ...  208 


INDEX. 


223 


Home -life,  order  requisite  in   . 
Homicide,  justifiable   . 

Honesty 

Horace,  the  poet  of  Epicureanism 

Ignorance,  sins  of    . 
Immortality,  ethical  relations  of 
Intemperance  .... 


Jouffroy 
Justice 


Kant,  ethical  system  of 
Kindness  .... 

Knowledge,  attainment  of,  a  duty 

Law,  the  result  of  experience  . 

an  educational  force     . 
Liberty,  the  right  to 

Love 

Lucretius,  philosophy  of 


Malebranche       .... 
Manners,  a  department  of  morals 
Marcus  Aurelius,  character  of     . 
Marriage          .... 
Measure,  duties  appertaining  to 
Military  service 
Moral  philosophy,  defined  . 
Motive 


Oaths  ...... 

Observation,  a  source  of  ethical  knowledge 
Order  ...... 


Paley       . 

Pantheism,  ethics  of 
Parents,  duties  of 
Passion 
Patience 


169 

64 

134 

200 

39 

67 

170 

218 
113 

219 

25 

102 

50 
51 
69 
22 

201 

216 

177 

204 

120 

170 

68 

34 

79 

129 

46 

164 

215 
218 
121 

82 
153 


224 


INDEX. 


Pauperism  .... 

PeripateticiS,  the 

Piety  toward  God 

Pity         .... 

Place,  duties  appertaining  to 

Plato,  as  a  teacher  of  ethics 

PoUteness   .... 

Positive  duties 

Price,  Richard    .        .    •    . 

Promises  .         .         . 

Prudence    .... 

Punctuality 


Resentment  .  .  , 
Revengce  .        ,        . 

Reverence  .... 
Revolution,  when  justifiable 
Right,  the  .... 

absolute  and  relative 
Rights,  defined  . 

how  limited 

personal 

of  property 

of  reputation 


Sabbath,  the 

Sceptical  school  of  philosophy    .        • 
Schoolmen,  ethics  of  the  .         • 

Self-control  ..... 

Self-culture,  moral  .... 

SeK-preservation         .... 

Seneca,  writings  and  character  of   . 
Shaftesbury         ..... 

Slavery   ...... 

Smith,  Adam       ..... 

Socrates,  as  a  teacher  of  ethics       . 
Speculation  in  business,  when  legitimate 

when  dishonest         .         .         • 
Spmoza       ...... 

Stoics,  pliilosophy  of  the 

eminent  Roman    .... 


144 

198 

113 

25 

168 
199 
178 
117 
214 
126 
98 
167 

27 
28 
23 
185 
35 
87 
61 
62 
64 
72 
76 

16 
204 
207 
106 
109 

99 
203 
210 

70 
211 
195 
138 
140 
209 
201 
203 


INDEX.  225 

Submission      . 155 

Sympathy 25 

Taxation           .........  75 

Temperance        .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  .173 

Time,  duties  appertaining  to  .         .         .         .         .         .  166 

Cfeur) 142 

Veracity 122 

V^irtue,  defined •  .       88 

connection  of,  with  piety           ....  91 

Virtues,  the         .......  94 

cardinal   .......  96 

Worship,  public           ......  115 

Zeno,  character  of  .          .....  202 

15 


BOOKS  FOR  TEACHERS. 

PEDAGOGY. 

Calkins's  (N.  A.)  Manual  of  Object  Teaching 
Days  (H.  N.)  Science  of  Education 
Eclectic  Manual  of  Methods  (J.  T.  Stewart) 

Question  Book,  or  Teacher's  New  Examiner 
Hailmann's  (W.  N.)  History  of  Pedagogy    . 

Lectures  on  Education 

Hewett's  (E.  (J.)  Peaagogy  for  Young  Teachers 
How  to  Teach  (Kiddle,  Harrison  and  Calkins) 
King's  (R.  M.)  School  Interests  and  Duties   . 
Krusi's  (Hermann)  Life  and  Work  of  Pestalozzi 
Ogden's  (John)  Science  of  Education 

Art  of  Teaching 

Page's  Theory  and  Practice  of  Teaching  (Payne) 
Palmer's  (F.  B.)  Science  of  Education   . 
Payne's  (W.  H.)  School  Supervision 

Contributions  to  the  Science  of  Education   . 
Sheldon's  (E.  A.)  Lessons  on  Objects    . 
Shoup's  (W.  J.)  Graded  Didactics      Volume  L 

Graded  Didactics.     Volume  2        .        .        . 

History  and  Science  of  Education 
Swett's  Questions  for  Written  Examination 

Methods  of  Teaching 

White's  (E.  E.)  Elements  of  Pedagogy 

School  Management 

KINDERGARTEN  AND  PRIMARY  MANUALS 


Calkins's  (N.  A.)  Primary  Object  Lessons 
Hailmann's  (W.  N.)  Kindergarten  Culture   . 

Primary  Methods 

Sheldon's  (E.  A.)  Elementary  Instruction 

MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AND  ETHICS. 

Bain's  (A.)  Moral  Science  .        .         "        .        . 

Gow's  (A.  M.)  Good  Morals  and  Gentle  Manners 

Janet's  (Paul)  Elements  of  Morals 

Peabody's  (A.  P.)  Moral  Philosophy 

Smith's  (W.  A.)  Elements  of  Moral  Philosophy     . 

Winslow's  {H.)  Elements  of  Moral  Philosophy    . 

PSYCHOLOGY  AND  LiENTAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Bain's  (A.)  Mental  Science 

Champlin's  Intellectual  i  hilosophy.     (Revised  edition.) 
Day's  (H.  N.)  Elements  of  Mental  Science     . 
Hewett's  (E.  C.)  Psychology  for  Young  Teachers 
Putnam's  (D.)  Elementary  Psychology 
Roark's  (R.  N.)  Psychology  in  Education 

Schuyler's  (A.)  Psychology 

Watt's  On  the  Mind  (S.  N.  Fellows) 

SCHOOL  REGISTERS  AND  RECORDS. 

White's  New  School  Register.     Containing  forms  for  Daily, 
Term    and  Yearly  Records,  equally  adapted  to  Graded  and 
Ungraded  Schools,  and  conforming  to  the  school  laws  of  the 
•  several  States.     By  Emerson  E.White,  A.M.,  LL.D. 


51.25 

.72 

.60 

.50 

.6j 

x.oo 

.8j 

1. 00 

1. 00 

1.20 

1. 00 

1. 00 

I. GO 
I. GO 
I. GO 
1.2j 
I.2G 

.5  J 

.60 

I.GJ 

.72 
I. GO 
I. GO 
1. 00 


1. 00 

.60 

.6j 
1.20 


1.22 

1. 00 

1. 00 

.90 

•75 
I. OS 


r.22 
[.00 
[.00 

.85 
.90 

[.40 
.60 


.60 


Besides  the  above  we  publish  a  variety  of  School  Registers,  Roll  Books, 
Term  Records,  etc.,  etc.,  adapted  to  the  convenient  keeping  of  daily, 
weekly  or  monthly  records  of  attendance,  deportment,  recitations, 
etc.,  of  pupils. 

Copies  0/  any  of  the  above  books  vjtll  be  sent  prepaid  to  any  address,  on 
receipt  0/  the  price,  by  the  Publishers: 

AMERICAN  BOOK  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK         -         CINCINNATI        •         CHICAGO 

BOSTON     •    A1L\NTA    -     PORTLAND.  ORE. 
(16) 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  THE  AMERICAN   BOOK   COMPANY. 

GENERAL  HISTORY. 

THALHEIMER'S  GENERAL   HISTORY. 

i2mo,  448  pp.     Half  roan,  illustrated  .  .  .  $1.20 

Extreme  brevity  has  here  been  combined  with  a  lively  and  simple  narrative, 
such  as  might  supply  the  present  need  of  young  pupils  while  affording  a  sym- 
metrical plan  for  the  research  of  older  ones. 

SWINTON'S  OUTLINES  OF  HISTORY. 

i2mo,  500  pp.     Cloth         ......  $1.44 

Ancient,  Mediaeval  and  Modern,  with  special  reference  to  the  History  of 
Mankind.  Its  anatomical  synopses,  its  maps  showing  the  political  divisions  at 
the  great  epochs,  its  collateral  information,  its  surveys  of  the  great  events,  dis- 
tinguished men,  and  important  discoveries. furnish  in  an  entertaining  style  just 
what  is  valuable  to  the  beginner  of  the  study  of  history. 

LORD'S  POINTS  OF  HISTORY. 

i2mo,  300  pp.     Cloth         ......  $1.00 

The  salient  points  in  the  history  of  the  world  arranged  catechetically  for 
class  use  or  for  review  and  examination  by  teacher  or  pupil. 

OILMAN'S   FIRST  STEPS   IN  GENERAL  HISTORY. 

i8mo,  385  pp.     Cloth        .  .  .  .  .  .75  cents 

A  suggestive  outline  of  great  compactness.  Each  country  is  treated  by  itself, 
and  the  United  States  receives  special  attention.  Frequent  maps,  contempo- 
rary events  in  tables,  references  to  standard  works  for  fuller  details,  and  a  mi- 
nute index  constitute  the  "  Illustrative  Apparatus."  The  style  is  surprisingly 
vivid  and  at  times  even  ornate. 

FISHER'S    OUTLINES    OF    UNIVERSAL    HISTORY. 

8vo,  690  pp.     Cloth  ......  $2.40 

This  work,  designed  as  a  text-book  and  for  private  reading,  is  a  clear  and 
condensed  narrative,  brought  down  to  the  present  year,  comprising  not  only  a 
record  of  political  events,  but  also  a  sketch  of  the  progress  of  literature,  art  and 
science  from  the  beginning  of  history  to  the  present  time. 

BARNES'S  GENERAL  HISTORY  OF  THE  WORLD. 

i2mo,  600  pp.     Cloth         .  .  .  .  .  .  $1.60 

A  complete  outline  of  the  world's  history.  Some  of  the  prominent  features 
comprise:  blackboard  analysis  ;  summaries  to  assist  in  review  ;  lists  of  reading 
references  ;  colored  maps  ;  scenes  in  real  life  ;  chapters  on  civilization  ;  gene- 
alogical tables  ;  foot-notes  ;  chapters  devoted  to  the  rise  of  modern  nations. 

The  pupil  insensibly  acquires  a  taste  for  historical  reading  and  forgets  the 
tediousness  of  the  ordinary  lesson  in  perusing  the  thrilling  story  of  the  past. 

APPLETONS'  SCHOOL  HISTORY  OF  THE  WORLD. 

8vo,  491  pp.      Cloth  .  .  .  .  .  .  $1.22 

From  the  earliest  ages  to  the  present  time.  A  clear,  fresh,  carefully  arranged 
and  condensed  work,  beautifully  illustrated.  It  treats  ancient  civilization  in 
the  light  of  the  most  recent  discoveries.  The  whole  history  of  the  past  con- 
densed into  a  moderate-sized  volume  that  can  be  readily  mastered  in  the  ordi- 
nary school  year. 

Copies  0/  these  or  any  of  the  publications  0/  the  Atnerican  Book  Company  /or 
the  use  of  teachers  or  school  officers^  or  for  examination  ivith  a  view  to  intro- 
duction^ will  be  sent  by  tnail^  postpaid^  on  receipt  of  the  list  or  introduction  price. 

AMERICAN    BOOK    COMPANY, 

NEW  YORK  .-.  CINCINNATI  .-.  CHICAGO. 

[*39] 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  THE  AMERICAN   BOOK  COMPANY. 

Ancient    History. 

BARNES'S   BRIEF    HISTORY   OF   ANCIENT   PEOPLES. 

i2mo,  340  pp.     Cloth  ......  $1.00 

In  this  work  the  poHtical  history  is  condensed  to  the  sahent  and  essential 
facts  in  order  to  give  room  for  a  clear  outUne  of  the  literature,  religion,  archi- 
tecture, character,  habits,  etc.,  of  each  nation. 
FISHER'S   ANCIENT   HISTORY. 

8vo,  200  pp.     Cloth  .......  $1.00 

Comprising  Part  I.  of  Outlines  of  Universal  History.     Designed  as  a  text- 
book and  for  private  reading.     Divided  into  five  periods,  from  the  beginning 
of  authentic  history  to  the  migrations  of  the  Teutonic  tribes. 
THALHEIMER'S   ANCIENT   HISTORY. 

8vo,  365  pp.     Cloth,  illustrated  ....  $1.60 

From  the  earliest  times  to  the  fall  of  the  Western  Empire,  A.D.  476.  This 
work  aims  to  place  the  leading  characters  and  Events  of  antiquity  in  a  clear  light. 

THALHEIMER'S   EASTERN   MONARCHIES. 

8vo,   103  pp.     Cloth  .  .  .  .  .  .80  cents 

Part  I.  of  ancient  history.     This  embraces  the  pre-classical  period  and  that 
of  Persian  ascendency. 
BARNES'S   BRIEF  HISTORY  OF  ROME. 

i2mo,  300  pp.     Cloth,  illustrated  ....  $1.00 

With  select  readings  from  standard  authors  on  the  plan  of  "  Brief  History  of 
Greece."    It  affords  a  very  good  idea  of  the  history  of  the  great  Roman  Empire. 

CREIGHTON'S   HISTORY   OF   ROME.     (History  Primer  Series.) 

iSmo,  127  pp.     Flexible  cloth      .  .  .  .  -35  cents 

A  brief  epitome  of  Roman  History,  for  use  as  a  text-book  or  for  reference. 

THALHEIMER'S   HISTORY  OF   ROME. 

8vo,  365  pp.     Cloth  .  .  .  .80  cents 

Part  III.  of  Ancient  History.     The  history  of  Rome  as  kingdom,  republic, 
and  empire.     Illustrations  and  colored  maps. 
TIGHE'S   ROMAN   CONSTITUTION.     (History  Primer  Series.) 

i8mo,  131  pp.     Cloth  .  .  .  .  .  -35  cents 

A  brief  and  compact  work  on  the  history  of  Rome.     Valuable  as  a  text-book 
where  but  little  time  can  be  devoted  to  the  subject,  or  as  a  book  of  reference. 
BARNES'S   BRIEF   HISTORY   OF   GREECE. 

i2mo,  204  pp.     Cloth,  illustrated  .  .  .75  cents 

This  contains  the  chapters  on  the  Political  History  and  Civilization  of  Greece 
in  Barnes's  Brief  History  of  Ancient  Peoples,  together  with  a  number  of  other 
selections. 
FYFFE'S    HISTORY   OF   GREECE.     (History  Primer  Series.) 

l8mo,  127  pp.     Flexible  cloth     .  .  .  .  .35  cents 

A  short  and  compact  epitome  of  Grecian  History.     Designed  either  for  use 
as  a  text-book  or  as  a  book  of  reference. 
MAHAFFY'S    OLD    GREEK   LIFE.     (History  Primer  Series.) 

iSmo,  loi  pp.     Flexible  cloth     .  .  .  .  .35  cents 

This  book  contains  chapters  on  the  general  features  of  the  Greek  nation  ; 
the  men  and  their  property ;  the  Greek  at  home  ;   public  life  of  the  Greek 
citizen,  and  Greek  religion  and  law. 
THALHEIMER'S    HISTORY   OF    GREECE. 

8vo,  243  pp.     Cloth  .  .  .  .  .  .80  cents 

Part  II.  of  Ancient  History.  This  embraces  Greece  and  the  Macedonian 
Empires.     Illustrations,  colored  maps,  etc. 

Copies  0/ these  or  any  0/  the  publications  0/  the  American  Book  Company  /or 
the  use  oj"  teachers  or  school  officers^  or  /or  examination  ivith  a  view  to  intro^ 
duct  ion,  will  be  sent  by  tnail,  postpaid,  on  receipt  o/the  list  or  introduction  price. 

AMERICAN   BOOK  COMPANY, 

NEW   YORK  .-.  CINCINNATI  .'.  CHICAGO. 

[*4=] 


PRIMERS 

IN  SCIENCE,  HISTORY,  AND  LITERATURE. 


Flexible  clotb,  ISmo.    35  cents  eacb< 


SCIENCE   PRIMERS. 

Edited  by  Professors  HUXLEY,  ROSCOE,  and  BALFOUR  STEWART. 


Prof.  T.  H.  Huxley, 


Introductory. 
F.K.S. 

Prof.    H.    E.    RoscoE, 

Prof.  Balfour  Stewart, 


Chemistry 
F.R.S. 

Phvsics. 

F.K.S, 

Physical    Geography.      Prof.    A. 

Geikie,  F.R.S. 
Geolog-y.    Prof.  A.  Geikie,  F.R.S 


Phvsiologry.    M.  Foster,  M.  D., 
F.K.S.     Hygiene.    R.  S.  Tracy. 
Astronomy.    J.  N.  Lockyer.  F.R.S. 
Botany.     Sir  J.  D.  Hookeh,  F.K.S. 
Logic.     Prof.  W.  S.  Jevons,  F.R.S. 
Inventional    Geometry.      W.    G. 

Si'ENCER. 

Pianoforte.    Franklin  Taylor. 
Political  Economy.      Prof.  W.  S. 
Jevon!=,  F.R.S. 


Natural  Resources  of  the  United  States.    J.  11.  Patton,  A.M. 


HISTORY    PRIMERS. 

Edited  by  J.   R.  GREEN,  M.A.,  Autlior  of  "A  Short  History  of  the  English 

People,"  etc. 


Greece.    C  A.  Fypfe,  M.A. 
Rome.    M.  Creighton,  M.A. 
Europe.    E.  A.  Fkkeman,  D.C.L. 
Old   Greek  Life.     J.  P.  Mahaffy, 

M.A. 
Roman    Antiquities.     Prof.  A.  S. 

vVlLKINS. 


Geography.    George  Grove, 

F.R.G.S. 
France.     Charlotte  M.  Yongk. 
Mediaeval  Civilization.     Prof.  G. 

B.  AdaM;;. 
Roman    Constitution.      Ambrose 

TiGHE. 


Egypt.     F.  C.  H.  Wendel,  A.M  ,  Ph.D 


LITERATURE    PRIMERS. 


American    Literature.     Mildued 

Cabell  Watkin?. 
En?i'ash    Literature.      Rev.    Stop- 

FORu  A.  Brooke.  M.A. 
Classical  Geography.     M.  F. 

TOZKR. 

Shakspera.     Prof.  E.  Dowdk.n. 
Studies  in  Bryant.    J.  Alden. 
Greek  Literature.    Prof.  K.  C.  J  ebb. 


English   Grammar.       R.    Morris, 

LL.D. 
English     Grammar     Exeiciscs. 

R.     MoRi:ir<,     LL.D.,    and     H.     C. 

BdWEN,   M.A. 
Philology.     J.  Pkile,  M.A. 
Homer.      Right    Hon.  W.   E.  (}lad- 

STONK. 

English    Composition.      Prof.    J. 

NiCHOL. 


The  object  of  these  primers  is  to  conve}'  instruction  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  make  it  both  intelligible  and  interesting  to  very  young  pupils,  and  so  to 
discipline  their  minds  as  to  incite  them  to  mure  systematic  after- studies. 


AMERICAN  BOOK  COMPANY,   PubUshers, 

NEW  YORK  •:•  CINCINNATI  •:.  CHICAGO 

(78) 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 

Brooke's  English  Literature. 

By  Rev.  Stopford  Brooke,  M.A. 

Flexiole  cloth,  i8mo.     226  pages, $0.35 

New  edition,  revised  and  corrected.  A  complete,  condensed  handbook  of  English 
Literature,  with  an  appendix  on  American  Literature. 

Cleveland's  Literature  Series. 

By  Charles  Dexter  Cleveland. 

Compendium  of  English  Literature.     Cloth,  i2mo.     800  pages,    .         .        .         $1.75 
English  Literature  of  the  19th  Century.    Cloth,  i2mo.     800  pages,       .        .  1.75 

Compendium   of  American  Literature.     Cloth,  i2mo.     784  pages,        .         .  1.75 

Oilman's  First   Steps  in  English  Literature. 
By  Arthur  Oilman,  M.A. 

Cloth,  i8mo.     233  pages, fo.6o 

Gilmore's   English  Language  and  Its  Early  Literature. 
By  J.  H.  Gilmore,  M.A. 

Cloth,  i2mo.      138  pages $0.60 

It  contains  a  topical  abstract  of  the  English  Language  and  its  Early  Literature,  with 
a  brief  summary  of   American  Literature. 

Smith's   Literature  Series. 
By  M.   W.  Smith,  M.A. 

Elements  of    English.     Cloth,  i2mo.     232  pages, $0.60 

Studies  in   English  Literature.     Cloth,  i2mo.     427  pages,     ....  1.20 

The  first  book  of  this  Series  is  preparatory  and  treats  of  the  English  Language  as  a 
whole  and  of  the  features  which  constitute  good  literature.  The  second  contains  a 
history  of  English  Literature  from  the  earliest  times,  with  complete  selections  from  the 
works  of  the  five  great  founders  of  English  Literature  :  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakes- 
peare, Bacon,  and   Milton. 

Watkins's  American   Literature. 

By  Mildred  Cabell  Watkins. 

Flexible  cloth,  i8mo.     224  pages, $0.35 

A  simple,  practical  text-book  on  original  lines  for  the  study  of  American  Literature 
in  schools. 

SUPPLEMENTARY   BOOKS  FOR  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE. 

Alden's  Studies  in  Bryant.     Flexible  cloth,  ismo.     127  pages,       .         .         .      $0.35 
Cathcart's  Literary  Reader.     Cloth,  i2mo.     541  pages, 
Dowden's    Shakespeare.     Flexible  cloth,  i8mo.     167  pages, 
Gladstone's  Komer.     Flexible  cloth,  i8mo.     153  pages, 
Guerber's  Myths  of  Greece  and  Rome.    Cloth,  i2mo.    438  pages 
Jebb's  Greek  Literature.     Flexible  cloth,  i8mo.     166  pages, 
McGuffey's   Literary  Reader.     Revised  edition.     Cloth,  i2mo. 
Shepherd's  Historical  Readings.     Cloth,  i2mo.     424  pages, 
Skinner's  Readings  in  Folklore.     Cloth,  i2mo.     448  pages. 
Skinner's  Schoolmaster  in  Literature.     With  an  Introduction 
Eggleston.     Cloth,  i2mo.     608  pages, 

Copies  0/  any  of  the  above-named  books  will  be  sent,  prepaid,  to  any  address 
on  receipt  0/ price  by  the  Publishers. 

AMERICAN  BOOK  COMPANY 

New  York  *  Cincinnati  •  Chicago 

(79) 


1. 15 

•  35 
.35 

Illustrated,  1.50 

•  35 
479  pages,       .85 

1. 00 
1. 00 
by  Edward 


1.40 


Eclectic  English  Classics  for  Schools. 


pensation 


and  XXI 


V. 


.40 
.20 
.20 

•35 
.20 
SO 
.20 
.20 
.20 


This  series  is  intended  to  provide  selected  gems  of  English  Literature 
for  school  use  at  the  least  possible  price.  The  texts  have  been  carefully 
edited,  and  are  accompanied  by  adequate  explanatory  notes.  They  are 
Well  printed  from  new,  clear  type,  and  are  uniformly  bound  in  boards. 
The  series  now  includes  the  following  works  : 

Arnold's  (Matthew)  Sohrab  and  Rustum        ....  $0.20 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation    . 
Coleridge  s  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner 
Defoe's  History  of  the  Plague  in  London 
DsQuincey's  Revolt  of  the  Tartars 
Emerson's  American  Scholar,  Self-Reliance,  and  Com 
George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner 
Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield 
Irvine's  Sketch  Book — Selections 
Tales  of  a  Traveler 

Macaulay's  Second  Essay  on  Chatham 
Essay  on  Milton     .... 
Essay  on  Addison 
Life  of  Johnson       .... 

Milton's  L'AUegro,  II  Penseroso,  Comus,  and  Lycidas 
Paradise  Lost — Books  L  and  IL     . 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad,  Books  I.,  VI.,  XXII 

Scott's  Ivanhoe   . 
Marmion 

Lady  of  the  Lake    . 
The' Abbot      . 
Woodstock 

Shakespeare's  Julius  C?esar 

Twelfth  Night 

Merchant  of  Venice 

Midsummer-Night's  Dream 

As  You  Like  It       . 

Macbeth  .         .         . 

Hamlet 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers  (The  Spectator) 
Southey's  Life  of  Nelson     .... 
Tennyson's  Princess  ..... 
Webster's  Bunker  Hill  Orations 


.20 
.20 


.50 

.40 
•30 
.60 
.60 

.20 
.20 
.20 
.20 
.20 
.20 

.20 


.20 


Copies  0/ any  0/ the  Eclectic  English,  Classics  will  be  sent^  prepaid,  to  any  address 
on  receipt  0/  the  price  by  the  Publishers  : 

American  Book  Company 


New  York 


(81) 


Cincinnati 


Chicago 


